


Number Twelve

by Khyber_Past



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: BAMF Nancy, Because Nancy is a strong independent woman, Bet you're wondering if those flashbacks are even relevant, Canon Compliant, Dustin is basically Steve's child now, Every Byers is a Badass turns out, Hurt/Comfort, I like my plot like I like my men: THICC, I miss Barb, Jesus; Joyce went from 0-100 real quick how did that even happen, M/M, Mystery, Nightmares, Number 12, Oooooo, PUT THE PUZZLE TOGETHER SWEET JESUS, Plot, Post-Season 2, Questions, Slow Burn, Steve / Jonathan, Steve and Jonathan didn't have sex with Nancy, Who is the Drow?, Who is the Lich?, Who literally does not need a man for her character arc, flufffff, ish, smutty fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 77,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khyber_Past/pseuds/Khyber_Past
Summary: Things are moving in the shadows of Hawkins. Things in hazmat suits. Things with fangs. Things forgotten for hundreds of years.





	1. Nightmares

Steve watched Dustin strut across the parking lot and enter the school hall. He hoped Dustin didn’t purr in front of any of the girls. People were gonna start calling him Chewbacca.

Steve shook himself. When had he become a nerd?

The hall was lit up for the Snow Ball and Steve was pulled back through his memories to the last Snow Ball he’d attended…

He’d sat in his car, fixing his hair, trying desperately to get height in his quaff. People were streaming past his car, yelling and laughing. He straightened his tie, got out of the car, and checked himself one last time in the car windows.

He drew himself up to his full height, which was considerably taller than most of the guys his age, puffed out his chest, and walked towards the hall. The king of Hawkins was about to make his entrance.

Because if you couldn’t be melodramatic at your last Snow Ball, when could you be?

Steve pushed the double doors open to the hall and posed.

People stared, why wouldn’t they? Steve god-damned Harrington had arrived. With his customary smirk of arrogance, Steve made his way through the crowd looking for his friends.

“Hey Tommy,” Steve said as he punched his best friend in the shoulder.

“Jesus Steve, there won’t be any girls left for the rest of us with you looking like that!” Tommy laughed.

Steve’s smirk widened. “I’ll send my leftovers your way.”

“Well before you pick up all the chicks, I snuck us a little something.” Tommy slipped a silver flask from his pocket and handed it to Steve, who opened it and took a big gulp.

“Christ, you could have at least mixed it with some punch, that’s my mom’s good gin.” Tommy took the flask back looking grumpy.

“Tell your mom she has shit taste in booze. I’m going to get some punch, want one?”

“Nah, Carol will get me one.” Tommy nudged the girl sat next to him, who’d spent the last five minutes staring at Tommy and hadn’t even said hey to Steve. She nodded and left to go grab Tommy his drink.

Steve laughed at her willingness to please Tommy. He walked to the edge of the room and around the throng of people until he found the drinks. If Steve was honest, that gin was making its way through his system real quick, and he could feel an electric buzz underneath his cheeks and in his legs.

He poured himself a drink and looked around the room for the first time. Carol was making her way back to Tommy. Steve had never really liked Carol, she was so desperate for Tommy’s attention that he let her treat her like shit. But then again, Steve had his own reputation for treating chicks like shit.

There was a group of younger boys sitting on the bleachers staring out at the dancefloor looking glum. Nerds.

He saw their science teacher, Mr. Clark, walking towards Tommy with a furious expression. No more gin for Tommy. His parents were gonna be pissed.

He had just started to laugh when Steve saw the pair of them on the other side of the hall. The pair were stood together on the edge of the dancefloor, not in the shadows where the other couples were making out, but they weren’t dancing either. They waited in the purgatory of school balls. Steve understood that place.

The rotating lights spun and flashed one of the pair. Nancy Wheeler. People told Steve all the time that he should be dating Nancy Wheeler. Steve supposed she was pretty hot. She was smart too, that’s for sure. Smarter than any girl Steve had dated before. That’s why Steve had stayed away from her, and probably why she stayed away from him.

Maybe she knew it wouldn’t work out. See, Steve had a way of ruining things with girls. Contrary to popular belief, Steve didn’t sleep with every girl he met.

Actually, he’d never slept with a girl at all. But if it keeps people off his back, and keeps his popularity up, Steve doesn’t really care what people say about him.

The guy next to Nancy stepped forward and Steve recognized him. Jonathan Byers. The weird kid. People usually called him a creep. There was something about him that unsettled Steve, sure, but he didn’t think Byers was a serial killer or anything. Which was what most people really thought about him.

As if he could sense Steve’s stare, Jonathans eyes flashed up to meet his. They looked at each other only for a moment, in which Steve’s heart sped up a little. His practiced sneer fell into place, and Byers looked back to Nancy.

Jonathan handed Nancy a drink and said something that must have been funny because Steve heard Nancy’s laugh from across the room.

White hot jealousy burned in the pit of Steve’s stomach. Well, it could have been the gin. Steve told himself it was the gin.

And as Steve Harrington dropped his drink onto the nearest seat and stormed out of the hall, he also told himself that he was jealous of Jonathan for being with Nancy.

Because the alterative; that he was jealous of Nancy, was far too absurd to entertain.

Steve was pulled back to the present by the sound of a car backfiring. Here he was again, at the Snow Ball, feeling jealous. He looked up through the huge hall windows to see Nancy. If he’d known all that time ago at the last Snow Ball, the world that Nancy would drag him into, Steve would have gotten in his car and driven for days.

She’d come a long way, Nancy. Last year she’d been timid, bookish, and bland. Now there she was, dishing out punch to juniors like she hadn’t spent the last two years entering other dimensions, defeating hell beasts, and investigating government coverups. There was something in her eyes now, something strong, unbeatable. It was in her stature too, she held a new presence.

Iconic. That’s how Steve thought of her now. She was the strength that bound the group together.

Steve’s eyes flickered to the next window and landed on the third member of their trio. His past self would be in utter disbelief that one day he might call Jonathan Byers “friend”. But here he was.

Like Nancy, Jonathan had undergone a serious shift in personality over the course of the last two years. First of all, people didn’t bully Jonathan anymore, Steve made sure of that. People still probably called him a creep behind his back, but he hadn’t been attacked by anything from this dimension in months.

In fact, girls were starting to pay attention to Jonathan. He’d sorted out his hair, smiled more, and was more confident in everything he did. The sort of confidence that you only got from battling monsters.

And thanks to Steve, Jonathan had even started to dress a bit better. Less black. Some color. Suaver that’s for sure.

Steve hated himself for how he’d behaved towards Jonathan before everything had happened. In fact, he felt uneasy every time he looked in Jonathan’s direction.

Steve wondered if his two friends would end up spending the night dancing under the blue lights. Would Jonathan ask Nancy back to his place? Steve wondered if the two of them would end up having sex.

Steve gunned the engine and pulled out of the parking lot with a screech.

The lights of the town blurred until they fell away and were replaced by trees. He drove for hours, all the while telling himself it was Byers he was jealous of.

***

The Ball was coming to a close and Jonathan was packing away his camera gear when Nancy approached him.

“Wanna have the last dance with me?” she asked.

Jonathan clipped the camera case closed and brushed himself off. “Nance, you know I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Oh come on, if I can teach Dustin, I can teach you! Just please don’t purr at me.”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck and felt the flush of premature embarrassment rush across his face.

“I could call Dustin back?” Jonathan said hopefully.

Nancy huffed as she grabbed Jonathan’s hand and dragged him into the mass of dancing couples. They were all at least two heads taller than anyone else dancing, and attracted quite a few stares.

“Hands on my waist,” Nancy ordered. Jonathan complied. Nancy wrapped her arms around Jonathan’s neck and smiled brightly. “See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Jonathan’s face made it clear he thought it was very difficult indeed. “What do I do with my feet?”

Nancy giggled. “You listen to enough music Jon, feel it a little. And relax.” She gave him an encouraging nod and swayed along to the string music playing.

After a few painful moves, Jonathan warmed up and felt himself guided by the music. The song ended and the other couples began to leave the dancefloor.

Jonathan was about to pull away when Nancy placed her head on his chest. “Do you remember who we used to be, Jon?”

Jonathan took a moment to think before he replied. “Sometimes. I catch myself in the mirror or something, and remember.”

“It was easier then, wasn’t it?” Nancy hugged him a little tighter.

“Different. Not easier, just different. Some things are better. I have you.”

“And Steve,” Nancy said with a smile in her voice, and she felt Jonathan go rigid.

“I suppose,” Jonathan’s tone was clipped.

“Who’d have thought you and Steve would become friends?” Nancy asked, with that same smile in her voice.

“Not me, that’s for sure.”

Nancy pulled back so she could look at his face, he avoided her eyes for as long as he could before he could no longer resist.

“What?” he snapped.

She smiled that little coy smile he hates so much. “I just think it’s nice that you guys are friends.”

There’s a long pause where they sway to music that’s no longer playing, Nancy’s eyes burning holes into Jonathan’s.

“You know, I used to wonder what girls saw in Steve Harrington.”

Jonathan scoffed. “Haven’t we all.”

Nancy’s eyes gleamed triumphant. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you often wonder about Steve?”

“Nancy,” Jonathan growled.

Nancy knew it was a warning. But she hadn’t backed down from inter-dimensional beasts, she sure wasn’t going to back down from a teenage boy.

“He definitely knows how to dress. And I think there’s something quite sexy about a man who drawls. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut cake. And then there’s the hair. Oh the hair. The hair and that smirk. It’s a wonder anyone can keep their hands to themselves.” Nancy watched the color drain from Jonathan’s face. “And what about how brave he is? Saved your life, didn’t he? Saved both of us. It’s hard to ignore someone who’s saved your life, and yet, you’ve been ignoring him a lot recently.”

It was true, Jonathan had retreated from Steve since they’d sealed the gate. It was easier than admitting things. Easier than being around him.

“Nance.”

“It’s only me, Jon. You can talk to me.”

Nancy watched the battle visible on Jonathan’s face. Emotions flicked across his features quicker than she could focus on. He was chewing his bottom lip, but after a moment, relented.

“It was just hard, when he went down into the tunnels. I was worried. I thought we were going to lose him.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “You mean, you thought _you_ were going to lose him.”

Jonathan hesitated. “No – it’s not like-” he deflated. “Fine. I thought I was going to lose him.”

“Did you tell him you were worried?” Nancy asked, even though she knew the answer, she just liked torturing Jonathan.

“I thought it would be easier to distance myself.” He looked up at the roof, covered in streamers and loose balloons. “If I don’t get close to people, it won’t hurt when they leave. And they always leave Nance.” Jonathan’s mind flicked to an image of Lonnie, he forced it away as quickly as it had appeared.

Nancy pinched his cheek. “I’m not leaving, idiot.”

Jonathan’s mouth pulled up into a small smile. He spun them both around a few times quickly until Nancy laughed and their balance was precarious. “Yes well, you’re different aren’t you?”

Nancy leaned in close to Jonathan’s neck and said, “If by different you mean, not Steve, then yes.”

Jonathan checked his watch over Nancy’s back, noticing that the hall was empty apart from them, everyone else had left, full of highs, excitement, and the electricity that came with a room full of partying people.

Before she let go, Nancy squeezed Jonathan tight and spoke gently into his ear, “Don’t you think you finally deserve something good?”

Nancy kissed Jonathan on the cheek and walked away.

Jonathan took a breath. Nancy had really been his rock in recent months. He didn’t know what he’d do without her actually. But she sure didn’t make it easy to like her sometimes.

***

 

Steve woke up sweating, again. That made what? A year in a row?

Instead of trying to slip back asleep, Steve got out of bed and padded through the empty house to the kitchen, pouring himself a large glass of water.

The lit clock on the microwave read just after four in the morning. Well, at least he’d managed to get a couple of hours sleep tonight. He was grateful, some nights he didn’t even get that.

Most nights the dreams started the same, with black shadows, a gentle caress of his mind, whispering on the fringes. If he was lucky that’s when he’d wake up. But on the nights he didn’t shake awake, Steve was plunged into a place more horrific than even the Upside Down.

Running. He’d always be running. But only ever fast enough to stay just ahead. Fangs snapped at his heels, claws grazed his neck, close enough to injure, not close enough to kill.

The noises were what really shook him to his core. The guttural noises that sounded like wild animals choking. The beasts would echo around him until they became deafening.

The very worst dreams included people. The first time he’d dreamt of his friends he’d cried for hours after waking. He was walking through the woods. Nothing was chasing him, not this time. This dream wouldn’t be rushed, it was the slow kind, agonizing. He wanted to run but his body moved painfully slow. That pressure your teeth feel when you bite down as hard as you can, it was like that, but all over his body. Steve hated it. Just when he thought he’d walked long enough to come out the other side of the forest he’d see them.

First it was Will, the younger Byers boy, leant up against a tree, his eyes blank and white, not the white of your eyes when they roll back, but a cloudy white, as if they’d injected milk into his iris’s.

Next was Eleven, her body was usually still standing upright, unsupported, eyes white, not breathing.

Dustin came after, his neck bent at an impossible angle, eyes glassy and white.

Then Nancy, her throat was cut, her mouth paused in a silent scream.

And the worst was last, nailed to the biggest tree in the forest was Jonathan. His eyes were pure white, not milky, and open wider than Steve had thought possible. Steve’s hands shielded his face as Jonathan’s chest exploded open, spraying blood all over him. In the silence of the dream, all Steve could hear was the last beat of Jonathan’s exposed heart, and he was screaming awake.

He usually vomited.

One night his mother had been home, which was rare enough. What was even more uncommon was that she’d comforted him by rubbing circled on his back while he vomited.

After he was done he told her it was something he’d eaten. She told him off for eating too much junk food, and asked him if he wanted the next day off school to recover. He’d said no. The only time he felt remotely safe was during the daytime when he was surrounded by other people. He wasn’t about to throw away his only sense of safety.

That first time had been a few months ago. Since the beginning, the dreams had been getting steadily worse, their intensity picked up, and found new ways of haunting Steve.

Some nights Steve thought he deserved this, deserved the terrors, that this was the universe’s way of getting him back for being suck a dick.

He shivered.

The silence of the house was calming. His father was away on business, and he assumed his mother was off with one of her men. His parents were the model marriage, he thought bitterly. To anyone outside looking in, they had the perfect life. Wealthy, happy, and wholesome. Steve laughed into the silence.

Steve poured the last dribbled of his glass down the sink and turned to look out the window, freezing as he did.

There was a figure standing right underneath the streetlight in the middle of the road. It seemed just as still as Steve himself, so still, Steve wondered if it was just a large bush. But as his eyes sharpened it became obvious that it was no bush, and that whoever was out there, was staring in.

Steve couldn’t bring himself to look away. In all honestly, he’d been waiting for this, waiting for something. The tranquility that had come after they’d closed the gate, had become tense. Like electric building up in the air right before a storm.

The figure tilted its head to the side in a child-like manner, paused for a moment, turned, and started shuffling off down the middle of the road.

When Steve finally felt ready to move again, he reached for his keys, and headed out the door. He moved slowly, as if by going fast he might break the seal of his safety.

He was in his car and the engine was roaring before he really knew what was happening. The car shot forward out of the driveway and Steve looked left to see if the figure was still there. The road was empty. But Steve didn’t stop.

Steve felt something pull at his gut from the darkness beyond the pool of the streetlights. A wave of goosebumps flashed over his skin.

He had the oddest feeling that the figure had been smiling.

***

Steve could have driven to Nancy’s. He could have called in at Hopper’s. Hell he could even have gone to crash at Dustin’s place, but Steve found himself killing the engine outside the Byers house.

He wasn’t really sure what he was going to do, you could hardly show up at someone’s house before dawn and say ‘hey, had a nightmare, someone was watching me, I’m creeped out, could use some company.’

Sure he’d been through a lot with Byers, but Steve wasn’t ready to admit he might actually be a mortal.

When the nightmares had first started, Steve had wondered if the others got them too. If maybe Will woke up terrified he was back in the Upside Down. Or if Nancy had visions of Barb. He wondered if Jonathan slept through the night, of if he was plagued by memories of black creatures and fiery portals.

Out of all of them Eleven had the most to fear from her past, and yet somehow, Steve imagined she managed to sleep just fine. He supposed there was a comfort that came with being powerful. True power. Not like being the most popular kid in school, he meant real, ass-kicking, terrifying power.

Steve thought about his situation, sat outside Jonathan’s house, he’d run here because someone was outside his house staring in, and now here he was, doing the exact same thing to Jonathan. Peering into his windows.

“Shit,” he breathed.

Resolved, Steve shoved the key into the ignition and thought about swinging by Nancy’s. As he was about to roll over the ignition, the porch light flicked on.

“Oh shit,” he really cursed this time.

Jonathan opened the door and leant against the frame. Since when had Jonathan looked so casual? Since when had he looked so cool? He wasn’t smiling, but then Jonathan never smiled. Steve stared at him, unable to move.

Jonathan raised his hand and gestured with his mug for Steve to come in. Steve wondered if the younger man was going to yell at him, maybe tell him to get lost and stop stalking him. That’s what the old Steve would have done.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and Steve grinned, it was enough to tell him that Jonathan wasn’t mad. He opened the car door, resisting the urge to check himself out in the rear-view mirror. He closed the car door gently, as not to wake the rest of the Byers family, and ignored the nauseous feeling growing in his stomach.

He hadn’t felt this nervous since he’d first taken a girl out on a date. Polly in seventh grade. His first kiss. He’d hated it to be honest. She’d tried to put her tongue in his mouth, and Steve couldn’t think of anything worse than having another tongue in his mouth.

Focus, Steve told himself, as he struggled to come up with an excuse for why he was sat outside Jonathan’s house in the middle of the night.

Before Steve could say anything, Jonathan stretched out the cup and said, “Cocoa?”

Steve was blindsided, he thought for sure Jonathan was going to grill him, even yell at him. He certainly hadn’t predicted Jonathan would offer him some warm cocoa.

“Thanks.” Steve took the mug gratefully, November was a cool month in Hawkins, and Steve was suddenly aware of the fact he was wearing thin pajamas.

Jonathan stepped aside. “Come in then.”

***

Jonathan gasped awake. Sweat coated his skin in a thick sheen. He sat upright to try and gain a sense of balance; physically or mentally, maybe both. When he righted himself he still felt waves of dizziness washing over him, so he threw himself back into his pillows.

He stared up at his ceiling and began tracing patterns of moonlight on the walls.

Tonight’s dream had been new.

He had become used to the nightmares, even before Will had been taken, and their lives had become more supernatural than natural. He used to have nightmares about school, bullied, and of course, Lonnie.

But it was hard to fear bullies now. Now that Jonathan knew what was drifting out there in the shadows. Something much, much worse than high school bullies. It was hard to care about the latest chemistry test when you knew beasts from other dimensions were lurking on the other side of the veil.

He didn’t fear Lonnie any more, instead he feared what Lonnie had made him become; weak. The echoes of Lonnie’s taunts played as background music in Jonathan’s everyday life.

If he was nice to someone, Lonnie’s voice would speak up from the depts of his memories: “What a pansy!”

If he stuttered in class: “T-t-t-today Jonathan!” Followed by Lonnie’s vile laugh.

When he looked Steve Harrington’s way: “Queer boy Jonathan, back at it again.”

Jonathan mentally slapped himself and thought back to his dream. He’d found a lot of closure in analyzing the dreams, if he didn’t think about them, the memories would just linger around him, poking at his thoughts.

This dream had been different.

There was no build up this time. No false sense of comfort. Jonathan found himself immediately in the Upside Down, in what appeared to be a hospital hallway.

The Upside Down was unmistakable. The walls were covered in thick black goo, and red vines pulsed their way along the ground. There was a distant howling coming from all around. But what really got Jonathan, what really turned his stomach, was the smell.

Jonathan had never smelt burning flesh before, but he assumed that’s what the Upside Down smelt like. It was acid in his nose, and unlike smoke, it wasn’t slow, or measured. The smell of the Upside Down blasted at his face, as if he was stood directly in front of a heater.

He continued down the hallway with no real destination in mind. Nightmares like this didn’t play by any rules, so Jonathan had resigned himself to no longer fight against them.

The doors along the hallway were numbered, and his stomach vibrated as he stopped outside the last one on the left.

012.

Jonathan reached out his hand, but before he could touch the handle, the door swung open.

Unlike the rest of the Upside Down, this room was free of the black goo, there were no vines crawling up the walls, it was pristinely clean.

In the middle of the room was a standard hospital bed, and laid bare on it was a man with long tatty hair covering his face. He had wires attached all over his body, from his temples to his toes.

He appeared to be asleep. Jonathan was about to turn and leave when the man’s head snapped up and he was confronted with pearl white eyes.

***

That’s when Jonathan had woken up, and after fifteen minutes of looking at the walls, he sighed and gave up trying to calm his mind.

He went to the kitchen and started making himself some cocoa. He didn’t really like cocoa, or hot drinks at all for that matter, but he felt this is what someone did when they couldn’t sleep.

The lack of noise at this time of night made it easy to hear the engine rumbling down the driveway. Usually, Jonathan might have become alert, or got a weapon. But he recognized that particular purr.

He finished up the cocoa while he waited for a knock at the door. After a few minutes Jonathan ran out of patience and opened the door himself.

There he was, Steve Harrington, sat in his glistening BMW looking like he was ready to bolt at a second’s notice.

Actually, Jonathan thought he looked quite guilty. As if he’d been caught stealing cookies. Or in a far more likely scenario for Steve, like he’d been caught sneaking out of a girl’s bedroom in the early hours.

Jonathan waited for Steve to do something, anything. It became apparent that Steve must have been waiting for permission, which was the dumbest thing. Any other time Steve had been into his house he’d barged through the door unannounced, usually carrying a spiked baseball bat, or a gun.

Jonathan rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could manage. He gestured Steve to hurry up.

Maybe it was the after effects of the dream, but as Steve approached him, Jonathan didn’t feel any of the usual nerved that came with seeing Steve.

“Cocoa?” Jonathan offered Steve the mug and with a slightly confused look, Steve accepted it.

As Steve took a sip, Jonathan stepped back and said, “Come in then.” Jonathan himself didn’t know where this confidence was coming from, but he wasn’t going to question it now. He’d wait until Steve was gone and probably have an anxiety attack about how he should have acted differently.

Jonathan made his way to the couch in the lounge and Steve followed, sitting at the opposite end, drinking his cocoa quietly. The lights were off but the fire was well-stoked, causing the room to be lit in a hazy red light.

They sat like this for a long time, until the sky outside began to lighten with shades of pink and orange.

Steve had finished his cocoa a while ago, but still clung to the mug, as if the ghost warmth might bring him some comfort. There was something about the middle of the night, a starry sky, and a full fire that brought the words out of Steve’s mouth.

“There was a man outside my house,” he said it as a sort of desperate explanation.

Jonathan stared at him hard. “You sure it was a man?”

Steve looked unsure.  “I’m not even sure it was real now.”

“You don’t think it could have been…you know…one of _them_?”

“No,” Steve said immediately. “It didn’t look like one of those things.”

They lapsed into silence.

Jonathan watched Steve through the black mirror of the T.V. His face was creased and his forehead lined. Jonathan knew he was seeing a new Steve Harrington, like the reflection was revealing the true Steve. Someone who wasn’t care-free and relaxed about everything. It pulled at Jonathan until he turned away from the T.V and stared at the real Steve.

“Steve, are you alright?” Jonathan asked softly.

Steve jumped a little, “Huh? Me? Sure, you know how I am. Everything’s good.”

“Steve.” Jonathan’s look intensified.

“Honest man.”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Fine. I’m not good. Things aren’t good. We’re just supposed to fight monsters and almost die and then what? Go back to math class like nothing happened?” Steve made a frustrated sound and got to his feet. “Sorry, I know everything pretty much ruined your life. I’ll go.”

“No. Stay. I get it.”

Steve stopped halfway to the door. “You do?”

“You’re right, the Department of Energy, the Gate, the monsters. They almost destroyed my whole family. But it was exciting. It was amazing, and I miss it. And that makes me feel more guilty than you could imagine.”

Steve dropped back onto the couch. “It’s messed up right? I mean, I don’t want anyone else to die, but if this is what the rest of my life looks like, I think I’d rather die.”

“If I could go back, and never know that any of it existed I would. You can’t miss what you never had.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “At least I’d get a good night’s sleep then.”

“You’re not sleeping?” The concern in Jonathan’s voice sent a spark of warmth through Steve.

“Sometimes.” Steve shrugged.

Jonathan was watching him, not replying.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Nothing it’s just- I don’t sleep much anymore either.”

“Nightmares?”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “Most nights.”

“Same.” Steve rubbed his hands together and looked at the ground.

“I don’t feel safe anymore. Knowing what we know, we can’t expect to ever feel safe. But at least when we were in it, out there fighting them, we knew where we stood. This weird place between everything… I hate it.”

Quiet returned between them. Steve’s eyes began to droop, and Jonathan pulled his legs underneath himself to keep warm. Steve slid gently to the side and his head landed on Jonathan’s shoulder.

“I know what you mean,” he said sleepily, not opening his eyes. “I just want to feel safe.”

Jonathan blinked but didn’t have the energy to open his eyes again. His head lolled onto Steve’s.

Together they took a deep breath and fell fast asleep.

 

***

Joyce Byers had always worried about her sons. They’d both been, how would she put it – delicate, as children. People saw their sensitivity as weakness and Joyce feared for them. People were cruel, people weren’t kind, this she knew first hand.

But as she poured herself a large mug of coffee she noticed Steve and Jonathan, snoring on each other, and in that moment, she had hope that at least one of her sensitive boys was going to be okay.

***


	2. Cold Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small update.
> 
> I'll be posting regularly, #Blessed that I got fired last week.
> 
> Less work, more writing. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> KP

Jonathan took his usual seat in the science lab. It had been a strange morning for Jonathan. He’d woken to Steve’s head nestled in his neck and a wet patch on his shoulder that he concluded was Steve’s dribble.

There were worse ways to wake up, he thought. At least he’d slept soundly, not even a flicker of a nightmare.

His mom must have seen the pair of them asleep on the couch, but she left for work without waking either of them, she must have known he needed the rest.

Jonathan and Steve got ready for school without so much as a word. Will gave a drowsy shrug when he spotted Steve in the hallway, but other than that, no one mentioned the strangeness of having Steve in the house. It’s how Jonathan preferred it, it felt like a calm spell was on the house, but if anyone questioned Steve, the spell would break and they’d be back to their panicked existences.

Jonathan drove the three of them to school, Steve would have taken his own car, if he hadn’t left his headlights on all night, killing his battery. They listened to the radio, some rock band he didn’t recognize was playing. He caught Will’s eyes a few times in the rear-view mirror, the question was in his eyes, but as long as he didn’t speak it out loud, things would be fine.

When they’d arrived at school together, people had noticed. Tommy had been passing and saw Steve step out of Jonathan’s car.

“What’re you doing with that freak, Harrington? Thought you had better standards than that.” He laughed without an ounce of humor.

Steve didn't seem bothered by it, he just flipped the bird.

Nancy threw herself down in the seat next to Jonathan and he no longer had the luxury of overthinking his morning.

“Hey, Nance.”

Her face was stern. “Don’t you ‘hey Nance’ me, Jonathan Byers.”

Jonathan feigned ignorance. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“No? And here I was, thinking we didn’t keep secrets from each other.” She huffed, crossed her arms, and faced the board.

“We don’t,” Jonathan whispered as their teacher walked in.

Mr. Clark was a nice enough fella, but he was pretty strict when it came to paying attention in class. “Before we start, the sheriff’s office has asked that we inform all students there’s an eight o’clock curfew for the entire town. Now, following on from last week’s topic, today we’re going to be discussing magnets.”

“Don’t we?” Nancy hissed back.

“What?” Jonathan asked, his mind running through why there might be a curfew.

“We don’t have secrets huh?” Nancy didn’t seem to care at all about the curfew. “Because it sure feels like it. Since when did you and Steve carpool huh?”

Mr. Clark was too busy writing on the chalkboard to hear them.

“It’s nothing, was just doing him a favor.”

“You went to pick him up?”

“Mmmhm.” Jonathan took notes furiously, avoiding Nancy.

“You went _all_ the way to the other side of town to get him?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Fine. He stayed at my place last night. His car wouldn’t run this morning, so I drove us to school.”

“Hah!”

Jonathan sighed. He knew he was in for it now.

“So he stayed at your house? How’d that happen?”

Jonathan finished writing the paragraph and tilted his head only slightly. “He came over last night. We talked about things. He slept on the couch.”

“Oh yeah? And where did you sleep?”

Through gritted teeth Jonathan said, “On the couch.”

“Mr. Byers, what is the name for an object repelled by both poles of a magnet?”

Jonathan felt a spike of panic. He didn’t know. He looked to Nancy for assistance, but she had her head down pretending to write notes. “Bitch,” he whispered.

“What was that, Jonathan?” Mr. Clark asked.

“I said I don’t know sir, sorry.”

“Diamagnetic. Please pay attention.” Mr. Clark turned back to the board and carried on his speech.

Nancy lifted her head, grin in place. “Well I’m just glad the two of you are getting on a bit better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nancy, what do you know about the magnetic field?” Mr. Clark had spun towards them again, trying to catch them off guard.

Without pausing Nancy flowed, “The magnetic flux density is a vector field, which is why a compass works the way it does. The planet is surrounded by a magnetic field, which keeps us safe from any solar anomalies in the vacuum.”

The class were silent, judging by the look on Mr. Clark’s face, he was just as impressed. “Nice work Miss. Wheeler, but try not to distract Mr. Byers so much. Not everyone has your intelligence.” He returned to the board.

“Not everyone has your intelligence?” Jonathan said, offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think it means you should focus more time embracing magnets, and less time trying to figure out why magnets work.” She dropped him a wink. They both knew she wasn’t talking about magnets at all.

***

Steve didn’t bother going to his last class of the day, it was only English, and he was sick of talking about _The Great Gatsby_. Did he see similarities between himself and Jay Gatsby? Sure. But did he plan on ending up as tragic? Hell no.

He was leaning against the wall of the gym thinking about his day, but more importantly, the night to come. He wondered if Jonathan would drop him off back at his house so he could pick up his car. He wondered if Jonathan would invite him in, or if he’d go back to being cold and distant again.

He hoped not. Steve thought their friendship would continue to strengthen after the Mind-Flayer events. But apparently he’d read things wrong, because soon after they started to get close, Jonathan withdrew from him and stopped speaking to him completely.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it gently. He’d woken up a few minutes before Jonathan this morning. He opened his eyes, oriented himself without moving, and closed his eyes again. He smelled fresh coffee in the air, he hated the taste, but loved the smell. He was snuggled neatly into Jonathan’s shoulder and he thought he ought to move, to give Jonathan his space. But he was just too damn comfortable.

Jonathan began to fidget so Steve reluctantly moved off of him and started getting ready for school.

If he was being honest, his car battery dying wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It meant he got to spend more time with Jonathan, and really, their friendship was something he hoped to reignite. Friendship, that’s the word he kept forcing when he thought about Jonathan.

The bell rang and a stream of people exploded out of every door. Steve scanned the crown, searching for the guy who’d be looking at the ground, shrinking away from physical contact.

It took him a few minutes, but he finally caught sight of the other man, traipsing down the main entryway. The crowd had thinned by now and there were only a few dozen people left in the parking lot.

Steve made to meet Jonathan by his car, and he was halfway there before he noticed the three people following Jonathan. Tommy, backed up by two of his bigger cronies, were yelling at Jonathan.  

Steve hurried over and managed to make out what they were yelling.

“What’s wrong Byers? Where’s your faggot boyfriend now?” Tommy sneered.

Before Steve could step in and tell Tommy where to stick it, Jonathan turned around, fists clenched, and socked Tommy with a right hook straight to the jaw. Everyone seemed to be a bit stunned, even Jonathan looked down at his hands as if they were someone else’s.

Tommy grabbed Jonathan by the cuff and was about to lay into him when Steve pulled him off and Jonathan fell to the ground. “That’s enough Tommy.”

“He hit me Harrington, now I’m gonna break his face.”

Steve put himself squarely between Tommy and Jonathan, his nose almost pressed against Tommy’s.

“Get out of here Tommy, we both know you couldn’t fight to save your life. Don’t embarrass yourself in front of your new friends.”

Tommy looked like he was going to hit Steve for a second, but after a heavy breath, he pushed away from Steve and walked over to his beat-up Cadillac, his brute friends following.

Steve reached down and pulled Jonathan to his feet. Jonathan’s hands were grazed and bleeding from his hard landing.

“Give me the keys. I’ll drive.” Steve gestured to Jonathan’s bleeding palms.

Jonathan looked hesitant and didn’t reach for the keys.

“Please Jonathan, let me help you.” Steve knew it was going against Jonathan’s instincts to trust, but eventually he relented and threw Steve the keys.

Jonathan walked around the car and slid into the passenger seat, cradling his hands in his lap.

Steve tried his best to focus on driving, but looked over to check on Jonathan every few seconds. They were about halfway to Byers’ house when Steve nodded to himself, checked his mirrors, and pulled a sharp U-turn.

“Where are we going?” Jonathan asked, irritated.

“We deserve a treat.’ Steve let a small smile lip onto his face, but Jonathan didn’t relax.

***

Jonathan couldn’t remember a time he’d been more stressed, or exhausted, or scared, than when he’d thrown that punch at Tommy’s face. A few months ago he’d have had a panic attack at the thought of being in a fight, now here he was starting one.

With Steve by his side, he’d felt safe enough to start a fight, he knew if it came to it, Steve would rescue him.

Steve stopped the car and pulled the ignition. “Stay here.” He left Jonathan in the car and disappeared.

They were parked along the main street of Hawkins, and the anxious side of Jonathan couldn’t help but fear that Tommy and his friends would see him alone in the car and start round two. Jonathan knew the only way to escape the anxiety was to fill his mind completely with other thoughts.

Jonathan wondered while he waited for Steve to return. Wondered if the safety he felt in Steve’s presence was healthy. Wondered if that would form some kind of dependency doomed to fail. Wondered if Steve was feeling the same way towards him. But most of all, and most pressing, was the thought of what might happen if he didn’t have Steve at all.

He felt nervous around Steve. Nervous to not look like a creep, to not make a fool of himself. Distancing himself from Steve hadn’t worked, in fact, it had only made things worse. Jonathan had started to crave the presence of the other man, and last night hadn’t helped at all.

The fact he hadn’t had another nightmare last night was something he kept coming back to. Perhaps it was just the fact he’d been exhausted, and that his mind didn’t have enough energy to conjure up a second nightmare. Or it may have been that he felt safe with another person around. Jonathan skirted around the idea that the reason he hadn’t had another dream was because he’d been near Steve, and Steve made him feel safe.

The driver’s door opened and Jonathan realized he was close to tears. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes.

Steve passed Jonathan a large paper cup filled with half a dozen scoops of ice cream, he felt instant relief in his grazed hands from the coolness. 

“That’s… a lot of ice cream,” Jonathan said, noting the two spoons.

“Yeah, I got a bunch of flavors. Didn’t know what you liked.” Steve smiled sheepishly and drove away from the ice cream parlor.

The smile stirred a small bubbling sensation in Jonathan’s stomach.

They drove in a charged silence. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, and Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was just in his head, but when they stopped at the edge of the quarry, he released a long breath.

Steve killed the engine.

“Come on, onto the bonnet.”

“Why?” Jonathan heard the whine in his voice and hated himself for it.

“Get onto the bonnet, Byers.” Steve got out of the car and slid onto the windshield. Jonathan took a moment to purge the heat from his face. Steve telling him what to do would usually have made him angry. But today…it wasn’t anger he felt.

With no grace at all, Jonathan managed to shimmy onto the bonnet, and laid down, his back propped up against the windshield. Jonathan understood why Steve had brought them here, to the massive quarry. The sun was directly opposite them, skating slowing towards the horizon.

Steve reshuffled and their bodies touched from their feet to their shoulders. For a while they just laid there, eating ice cream, watching the sky go from a fiery orange, to a cool violet, and eventually a light pink.

Steve spoke first. Steve always spoke first. “Sorry about Tommy. Sorry for dragging you into our fight.”

“Your fight? He called both of us faggots.” Jonathan tried to shrug, which, it turned out, was far more difficult when lying down.

Steve looked sullenly out at the sunset. “Yeah well, I should have protected you.” 

“You don’t have to protect me,” even as Jonathan said it he regretted it. It was true, Steve didn’t _have_ to protect him. But Jonathan wanted him to.

“I know, I know – you can protect yourself.” Steve huffed, arms crossed.

Jonathan reached his left hand over his body and pulled Steve’s crossed arms apart. “Maybe we can work fifty-fifty. You protect me, I protect you.” Jonathan squeezed Steve’s arm and the other man turned to face him.

“Fifty-fifty?” Steve sounded unsure.

Jonathan nodded.

“What about twenty-five, seventy-five?” Steve tried with a grin.

Jonathan punched him lightly, but was happy to see a smile back on his face. “Forty, sixty. Last offer,” Jonathan bargained.

“Deal,” Steve said quickly, before Jonathan changed his mind, and stretched his own hand over to meet Jonathan’s. They grasped tightly, and although Jonathan’s hands were cold from holding the ice cream, he felt a warmth shoot up his arm. They both pulled their hands back, but the warmth stayed.

They stared at each other’s smiles longer than it would have been comfortable if it had been anyone but the two of them. Neither of them really broke the contact, they just turned simultaneously to watch the last of the color drain from the sky.

“Hey no pressure, but would it, you know be okay if-” Steve made some strangled sounds.

“Spit it our Harrington.”

“Is it all right if I crash at your place for a bit? It’s just my parents aren’t around a lot, and it gets kinda lonely.”

Jonathan was too taken aback to reply immediately. He was torn. This was what he’d hoped for, an excuse to have Steve to himself, spending more time with him. But with that came guilt, he felt as if he was taking advantage of Steve. As if Jonathan was getting something out of this that Steve didn’t understand, it made Jonathan feel dirty, ashamed.

“It’s alright. I get it, forget I said anything,” Steve sounded as if he was on the edge of tears.

Jonathan’s weaker side won. “No, no it’s fine. Stay with us as long as you like. Honest.”

“You sure?” Steve said, hope creeping into his voice.

“One hundred percent.”

“Thanks man. I appreciate it. A lot.”

Their arms were relaxed by their sides, almost touching.

Steve flexed the fingers on his left hand.

Jonathan flexed his right hand back, automatically.

Steve tip-toed his fingers onto Jonathan’s palm and they both held their breaths. Jonathan thought about Tommy calling them faggots. He thought about Lonnie’s voice in his head, talking to him about how unnatural queers were.

But those voices ceased the moment Jonathan threaded his fingers through Steve’s.

Neither of them turned to look at the other, but both tried to peek from the corner of their eyes.

Steve thought he might be able to see Jonathan’s lips curving upwards.

Jonathan _knew_ he could see Steve’s beaming white smile. And if he hadn’t been trying to slow his racing heart and stop his blush, he would have rolled his eyes.

The stars were beginning to flicker on across the sky and the pair stayed on the bonnet until it grew too cold, and they started to shiver.

“Home?” Jonathan asked.

Steve squeezed their still grasped hands. “Home,” he agreed.


	3. The Voyage

_The first people to settle in Hawkins traveled down the East Coast in the 1700’s._

_They moved south, seeking warmth in place of the harsh winters. They followed the harvest crops inland, safe from wind and sea._

_It wasn’t an easy migration, and many did not survive the journey._

_The leader of their group was a man without pause, a true born leader of the people._

_He led them forward on the promise of bounty, a fresh life with endless opportunities._

_In truth he couldn't have cared less about bounty or lands. What he cared about was far more momentous._

_He was on a quest to save the future of mankind._


	4. Colder Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR BEING M.I.A.
> 
> Let's be honest, wine is the reason I haven't posted in so long. 
> 
> If there are any typos, soz, plz blame $9 bottles of Moscato.
> 
> But I have a heap to post. Just gotta edit it. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy yourself as the hottest babes in Hawkins finally get to share a bed.

Steve woke up in the same comfortable haze he was getting used to. Jonathan was still snoring, and light was just beginning to filter in through the cracks in the curtains.

He’d spent the rest of the week at the Byers house, getting settled into a new routine. They went to school, got ice cream on the way home (sometimes with Will) and then did homework or watched T.V. It turned out that Jonathan couldn’t cook to save his life, so Steve cooked the family dinner on the nights Joyce got home late. Nobody seemed to find it strange that overnight Steve had just assimilated into their house.

Then when it was time for bed, Jonathan and Steve got ready separately. Jonathan showered first while Steve cleaned up the dishes. After that Steve showered, and once he’d put on his pajamas, he went to Jonathan’s room where the other man had pulled out the pillows and blankets that formed Steve’s makeshift bed on the floor.

Jonathan would slide on his headphones and listen to his Walkman. When Jonathan was getting ready one night, Steve had checked what tape he listened to. A band called ‘The Police’ Steve had never heard of. Steve was more of a Kenny Rodgers fan himself.

They’d both fidget for a while, eventually getting comfortable, and the only sound in the room was their uneven breathing.

Neither of them had mentioned Monday night when Steve had held Jonathan’s hand. It hung between them like a strange secret they weren’t yet ready to acknowledge. Steve was sure they’d be ready one day. He just wasn’t sure if Jonathan was hoping for the same.

Steve knew this would have to end soon. His parents would ask where he was spending all of his nights, and order him to come back home. But until then, Steve would continue to enjoy his sleeping arrangements. He was more than content to ignore the impending doom by listening to Jonathan’s breathing.

There was a gentle knock at the door and Joyce toed her way into the room. Her eyes were crinkled by her smile as she took in the sight of the boys.

“Steve,” she whispered. “Hopper’s here to see you both, wake him up and come into the kitchen, would you? Thanks sweetheart.” The door clicked shut and Steve pulled himself to his feet.

He looked down at Jonathan’s sleeping form. He looked utterly peaceful. There were no creases on his forehead, no twitch in his cheek. One day, Steve thought, this is how Jonathan might look when he was awake too; carefree, relaxed. Steve hoped he might become that carefree Jonathan. Steve also hoped he’d still be a part of that Jonathan’s life.

In a moment of sheer weakness Steve reached down and pushed a strand of hair off Jonathan’s face, running his finger down the other man’s cheek.

Jonathan’s eyes open drowsily.

Steve smiled, and ran a hand through his own hair, an unfamiliar blush painting his own cheeks and not Jonathan’s this time.

“Hey, Hopper wants to speak to us.”

Jonathan blinked slowly. “Did you just-”

Steve cut him off, “Hopper.” He turned and walked out of the room, rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve had done pretty well to restrain himself since Monday, well that’s what he thought anyway. Forgetting himself and touching Jonathan like that…he wanted to punch himself in the face.

He hadn’t been able to help himself. He felt weak, but not embarrassed. He only hoped he hadn’t made Jonathan feel awkward. It wasn’t fair for him to place that sort of pressure onto Jonathan, especially if Jonathan didn’t return the sentiment.

Both boys shuffled into the kitchen, still in their pajamas. Well both were dressed in Jonathan’s pajamas, as Steve still hadn’t bothered to go home and collect more clothes. The pair were almost the same size, only Jonathan’s shirts were a bit tight around Steve’s broader shoulders.

He’d much rather sleep topless, but out of respect for the Byers family, he tried to keep his nudity to a minimum.

Joyce and Hopper were drinking coffee at the small table in the kitchen. Joyce looked anxious, fumbling with her mug, but Hopper maintained his calm demeanor.

“Hey Hopper.” Jonathan shook his hand and Steve waved good morning.

“How’s El?” Steve asked. Steve was getting to see more and more of Eleven now he was staying at the Byers house. On the nights Hopper was on duty she stayed with them, preferring to hang out with Will away from any noise and company.

“Hey bud, she’s doing great, almost never throws things at me with her mind anymore.”

Steve went to the stove and started heating milk for cocoa.

Hopper and Joyce made small talk while Jonathan yawned and tried to become coherent. Steve poured a mug of cocoa for himself and Jonathan, and joined the others at the table.

Jonathan scooped an extra spoon of sugar into his own cup, and two more into Steve’s. Hopper watched the pair closely, and then raised his eyebrow at Joyce.

Steve sipped at his drink, then tried, and failed, to add another teaspoon of sugar without Jonathan noticing.

“Wha’dya need to ask Hop?” Jonathan asked, smacking Steve’s hand away from getting a fourth spoonful of sugar.

“Well, here’s the thing boys. I wouldn’t ask unless I had no other options. But I ain’t got nowhere to turn but you.”

Steve lowered his cup to the table and titled his head to the side, thinking. He’d never seen Hopper looking this worse for wear.

“What’s happened?” Jonathan asked, alert and serious immediately. “This is about the curfew isn’t it?”

Hopper wrung his hands and nodded. “People are going missing again. Lots of ‘em. We thought it might just be people up and leaving town after all the weirdness. You know a ton of people left after the last lot of deaths. But now there’s been a dozen missing persons reported over the last month. And then last night one of the night shift workers at the gas station, fella called Jeffery, got kidnapped.” Hopper spoke fast, as if the quicker he spoke the less scary it would sound.

“How’d you know he was kidnapped?” Steve asked, draining his cup.

“We’ve got a witness this time. Not a peep about any of the others, but this one, this time someone saw something.”

“They saw who took him?” Jonathan leaned in over the table.

“Not who. What. She was pretty messed up, talking about all sorts of crazy things but-” Hopper turned to Joyce whose lips were pursed in a disapproving way. “She was talking about monsters.”

Steve felt Jonathan tense next to him and reacted by putting a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

Under Joyce’s gaze Hopper finished, “Now there isn’t anything to say she’s right. It could just be an old lady gone a little senile. In fact, now that I’ve said it all out loud, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Steve could tell it was just a reaction to Joyce’s anger. Under his throwaway casualness was fear.

“So why’re you telling us?” Jonathan’s voice was sharp.

“I don’t really know. It’s not like I can call in the FBI.”

“We’re like your backup?” Steve sounded too upbeat about that, even to his own ears.

Jonatan side-eyed him.

“There’s some things I can’t do. Ask suspicious questions, snoop around places that aren’t crime scenes, people will talk, they’ll panic.” Hopper put his cup down and got up to leave. “It was a stupid idea, never mind.”

“Wait.” It was Jonathan. “We’ll go look at the gas station, talk to that woman, we’ll do it.”

Hopper looked at him for a long time, and nodded. “The gas station down Cherry Ave, the woman’s name is Janice Chaplin, she lives at 54 Waterside.”

Hopper left.

Joyce followed him out.

Steve raised an eyebrow at Jonathan, demanding an explanation.

“I just thought, if it’s our sort of stuff again, we may as well get ahead of it. Can’t surprise us if we surprise them, right?”

Steve valued the bravery, even if Jonathan himself didn’t. Steve surprised them both by wrapping his arms around Jonathan’s shoulders and pulling them tightly together.

They didn’t speak, and the hug lasted longer than either of them would usually be comfortable with.

They broke apart and in a small voice Jonathan said, “Just promise me we’ll be safe, and if things get sticky, we’ll ask for help this time.”

Steve’s eyes burned into the other man’s. “Promise,” he said.

***

They stopped by the Wheeler house on the way to the gas station.

Mrs. Wheeler waved at her kids from the front door. “Have a great day!”

Will got out of the backseat and joined Mike on the curb. Nancy walked past Will, ruffled his hair, and took his spot in the car.

Jonathan had called ahead and told Nancy about Hopper’s early morning visit. She’d immediately agreed to skip school and help the boys investigate. It seemed Steve wasn’t the only one eager to get back into investigating.

Will and Mike were stood near the car, whispering conspiratorially. They broke apart and Mike leaned into Jonathan’s window. “What were you on the phone talking about this morning?”

“None of your business, Mike,” Nancy spat from the backseat.

“Well maybe it’s mom’s business?” Mike turned back to the house and let the threat hover in the air.

“You wouldn’t,” Nancy’s teeth were gritted.

Mike grinned at the challenge. “Wouldn’t I?”

“Ugh. You’re a shit. Fine. Old Mrs. Chaplin thinks she saw a monster.”

The young boys exchanged a worried glance.

“But El fixed it. She closed the gate,” Mike assured them.

“We watched the Mind Flayer burn,” Will said, shivering.

This was too much for kids to handle. Too much for adults to handle. Which left three teenagers in a car. Three teenagers who’d done this before.

The Creep.

The Nerd.

And the Jock.

Steve leaned across Jonathan to speak out the Driver’s side window, resting on Jonathan’s lap lightly, pressed against his stomach. “Guys, you know what old people are like, she probably lost her glasses and saw a cat. We’ll handle it.”

This seemed to calm the boys, but Steve knew the second their little party met up at school, they’d fuel each other’s curiosity and imagination.

“We’ll keep you in the loop alright?” Jonathan offered.

“Here, take this, just in case.” Mike handed Jonathan a chunky walkie talkie. “I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Someone knocked on Steve’s window and he jumped. “Jesus Dustin!” Steve rolled down the window.

“Hey Steve,” Dustin said with his almost-lisp. ‘Sounds like you’re doing something stupid. I don’t have to be a psychic to know this is a bad idea.”

Steve laughed. “No one’s getting hurt on my watch, man.” Steve’s eyes flickered to Jonathan, who was still chatting to Will. “Guaranteed safety.”

They said bye to the kids and pulled out of the Wheeler’s driveway.

“So what do you really think?” Nancy asked the car at large.

 “Could be nothing.” Steve paused. “But if it _is_ something, I doubt there’s anyone better able to handle it than us.”

They arrived at the gas station. There was glass all across the forecourt, it crunched as they all got out the car. Most of the windows of the gas station were blown out, Steve stooped to look at a few of the larger shards, and saw some of the edges were laced with dark stains. Blood.

Only one officer remained at the scene, a young cop, barely out of police training. He waved them past the crime scene tape and into the store itself. “Hopper told me you were coming.” He looked dubiously at them.

“I guess it does look pretty weird,” Nancy said once they’d passed him. “The chief getting three kids to check out crime scenes.”

They picked their way through the chaos of the store. There were corn chips and beef jerky everywhere, shelves were flipped, and milk dripped from the chillers.

“Wish I had my bat with me,” Steve said, dusting glass of the counter.

“It’s broad daylight!” Jonathan tutted. “What would people think of you walking around with that giant thing in your hands?”

Nancy scoffed and waited for Jonathan to replay his words, she watched with a shark-like grin as his face burned.

Steve seemed oblivious. “I’d just rather have it with me.”

They scoured the rest of the gas station, inside and out; in the customer toilet, behind the skip bins, Jonathan had even reluctantly given Steve a boost onto the roof. Jonathan rubbed his hands the entire time Steve was up there, hoping he wouldn’t fall.

Steve shimmied his way back down along the gutter. “What are we even looking for anyway?”

It was a question that hadn’t really thought about. “We’ll know it when we see it.”

“Black goo? Vines? Anything that looks like it might have come from another dimension.”

“The only thing I’ve seen from a disgusting dimension was that bathroom.” Steve made a heaving motion.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Take this seriously would you?”

Steve mock saluted. “Yes sir.”

“We should go to Mrs. Chaplin. See if her monsters are our monster,” Jonathan said, leading them back to the car.

In truth Jonathan needed Steve’s light-hearted humor to keep him going. If it weren’t for that little spark of lightness, Jonathan thought Hawkins would be a terrifying place to live, let alone help investigate a kidnapping and possible monster attack.

He never felt overwhelmed with Steve. Because Steve always knew what to say, how to react, and what would make Jonathan feel better.

He was lucky to have the reformed-asshole on his side.

They drove in silence to Waterside Drive, and stopped outside number fifty-four.

***

Waterside Drive was like any street in Hawkins. The lawns were green. The houses were clean. And right at the end of the street was a neat bungalow.

It was in this house that some twenty years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Chaplin decided to start their married life together. They were married in a small ceremony, shortly after they decided to leave the big city of Indianapolis and start a family in the small town of Hawkins.

Mr. and Mrs. Chaplin moved in on the twenty-second of May, and by the beginning of Autumn, Mr. Chaplin’s health started to deteriorate.

Mr. Chaplin blamed his pipe.

Mrs. Chaplin blamed Hawkins.

There was something about the place, she’d say. Something not quite right.

But when, a few months later, Mr. Chaplin succumbed to his illness, Mrs. Chaplin couldn’t bring herself to leave the town. The same town she hated so much.

And so, Mrs. Chaplin began her solitary second life. She did not re-marry, she did not socialize. In fact, she rarely left the house, the money from her husband’s life insurance kept her comfortable.

But just because she didn’t engage with the world around her, didn’t mean she wasn’t watching. A woman who had nothing to do all day, had a way of filling her eyes and ears with the lives of others.

If the couple at number thirty-six were having a fight, Mrs. Chaplin knew what they were fighting about. If Mr. Kirkman across the street left in the dead of night to have his affair with Ms. Adams at number twenty-four, you could bet Mrs. Chaplin knew how long he lasted. If a car with out-of-state plates drove down the road, Mrs. Chaplin wouldn’t just know where they were from, she’d find out where they were going.

Mrs. Chaplin was always watching.

Which was why, on a chilly Wednesday evening in December, Mrs. Chaplin startled as a man hurtled down the street.

She watched through the white netting of her kitchen window as the man tripped, fell, and yelled out. Mr. Chaplin wondered if the young man was drunk, or perhaps if he had taken one of those fancy new drugs that made you see things.

The young man scrambled across the pavement.

That’s when Mrs. Chaplin saw it. Skulking in the shadows, just out of the streetlamp’s reach.

It was a hideous thing and if she weren’t frozen solid, she would have screamed. She rubbed her eyes. Surely the grotesque creature couldn’t be real. Things like that simply didn’t exist.

The man made a hair-raising noise as the creature tore into his body. It was part way between a scream and a gurgle.

Mrs. Chaplin couldn’t see clearly because they were on the other side of the street. Without taking her eyes off the attack, Mrs. Chaplin reached for the phone, and dialed 9-1-1 on the spinner.

If she thought the situation had gotten to its worst, she was incredibly wrong. As she spoke to the officer on the line, Mrs. Chaplin watched things get significantly stranger.

                                                                                                                                                

***

Nancy knocked on the door of number fifty-four and thunder rumbled in the distance.

The three stepped back and waited.

First the curtains on the left-hand side of the door twitched. Then the ones on the right. They heard a shuffling behind the door.

“I’m not buying,” a squeaky voice said.

“Oh no, we’re not here to-” Nancy tried.

“I’m not selling.”

“But Mrs. Cha-?” Jonathan tried.

“And I don’t want a new religion.”

“We’re here about the monsters,” Steve said quietly.

There was silence on the other side of the door.

The chain unlatched.

The bolt withdrew.

The lock clicked.

And the door opened to reveal little old Mrs. Chaplin. She was a small, frail-looking woman who had a hunched back and wiry white hair.

But when she looked at them, and she spent a significant amount of time looking at each of them, her eyes were not aged like the rest of her. Her hearing may have faded, and her skin had sagged, but her eyes were lit with an inner fire.

Jonathan was willing to be she’d notice a creased tablecloth the moment she walked into a room.

“You’d better come in then.” Mrs. Chaplin led them into her lounge, where she perched on a floral print seat. She motioned the three teenagers to sit on the long couch opposite her.

The lounge was exactly what Jonathan imagined an old woman’s living room would look like. The wallpaper was yellowed, the faint smell of cat hung in the air, and there was a thick layer of dust on almost everything; including Mrs. Chaplin herself.

“So,” Steve said.

“So,” Mrs. Chaplin parroted, looking not at them, but out through the window.

“What did you see Mrs. Chaplin?” Nancy asked gently.

Mrs. Chaplin took her time replying, pulling at the frayed edges of her couch. “A young man was attacked in the street.”

“What exactly attacked him ma’am?” Steve leaned forward and the three of them held their breaths. Mrs. Chaplin pulled her eyes away from the window and flicked between the three of them.

“The police officer that came over didn’t believe a word I said, you know. And then comes along chief Hopper, and I saw his face when I described it, the…the _thing_. I knew that he knew exactly what I was talking about.”

Steve reached across the gap between the couches and covered the old woman’s hand with his. “We’ve seen things too.”

Mrs. Chaplin looked out of the window again and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Scaly black skin. Long arms, legs. On all fours. It’s face…” Mrs. Chaplin paled. “Out of sorts. Bits hanging off. Teeth everywhere. So many teeth.”

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan exchanged looks. This was the real deal. Mrs. Chaplin had seen a Demogorgon.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Mrs. Chaplin got up, left the room, and started pottering around in the kitchen by the sounds of it.

“What do you reckon?” Steve asked.

“One of the slugs, like Dustin’s? A baby Gorgon?” Nancy asked.

“Could be. Who knows how many came through the gate.” Jonathan chewed his lip.

“It didn’t sound fully grown, it wasn’t on two legs yet,” Nancy commented, thinking.

“One thing’s for sure. We’ve gotta find it, before it kills again,” Steve said with a confident nod.

Mrs. Chaplin returned, tea in hand, and sat back in her seat facing the window. Her mug clinked against her saucer as her hands shook.

“Sorry Mrs. Chaplin, one last question and we’ll leave you alone.” She didn’t respond so Steve carried on. “What direction did it run off to? So we know where to start looking.”

“Oh it didn’t run off. No.” Mrs. Chaplin was still staring out into the street. “I would have told chief Hopper that but he didn’t stick around long enough to listen.”

“So where did it to?” Nancy asked.

“Right after the screaming stopped, a white van came whizzing down the street. Slammed to a stop. A bunch of men in white suits got out, cornered the thing, netted it up, vanished back into the van. And off they go.”

“A white van?” Jonathan felt a cold sensation tickle down his spine.

“The Department of Energy,” Steve spat.

***

Jonathan shot to his feet and walked to the window. Even when the Department of Energy were being helpful, people still seemed to come off worse for knowing them.

They’d helped Will. But they tortured Eleven.

They’d also tried to close the gates, but then, they’d been the ones who opened them in the first place.

They’d helped Joyce out with money, but they’d killed countless witnesses who got in their way.

Jonathan’s vision focused on a shift of movement in his periphery.

A woman stood across the street, coat on, umbrella raised even though it wasn’t raining.

She was staring right at Jonathan. And for a moment he saw her wide smile. She turned and was gone, out of sight quicker than Jonathan’s eyes could follow.

“Johnny, you okay?” Steve laid his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Nobody had ever called him Johnny before. He liked it.

“Yeah. Fine. Just thought I saw something.” Jonathan rubbed at his eyes.

“I think we’ve had enough monsters for today.” Steve guided Jonathan to the door.

“Agreed.”

***

Steve and Jonathan were both settled into their evening routine now.

They’d usually have dinner with Will and Joyce, but tonight Joyce was out at Hopper’s place, and Will had gone to Mike’s. They’d enjoyed a quiet night, eating in comfortable quiet, doing the dishes together, and then getting ready for bed.

They were in their beds, breathing evenly and quiet.

After they’d left Mrs. Chaplin’s house, they’d gone straight to the station to tell Hopper what they’d learned. He was disappointed, and anxious. It showed in his baggy eyes.

Jonathan knew Hopper had been hoping it was a hoax, some big mistake.

Because whatever involved monsters, usually involved Eleven. And any threat to Eleven, was a headache for the chief. He agreed to fill Joyce in on everything when he met her for dinner that night.

“But other than me and your mother, you don’t talk about this to anyone.” He paused for effect and said slowly but firmly, “ _Especially_ the kids.”

They nodded, left the station, and because Nancy wouldn’t let them have the afternoon off, the three of them attended the rest of the school day.

Will had pressed them both on the way home from school, and Jonathan imagined Nancy was suffering with the same from Mike.

They told them nothing. Not yet. It was too early to call, and the last thing they wanted was for the kids to get involved and get stuck in a situation they couldn’t handle. Again.

Before Will had been picked up by Mrs. Wheeler, Jonathan and Will had an explosive fight, with both boys shouting at each other. Will arguing for information, Jonathan arguing for silence. In truth Jonathan still felt whipped up about the whole thing, even now, hours later in bed.

“Steve?” Jonathan said, rolling over to look down at Steve, bundled up on the ground. Tonight he was colder than Jonathan could ever remember being, and he felt sorry for Steve on the floor, so he’d gotten him double the blankets.

“Hmm?”

“If we stay out of the way, let the Department of Energy do their thing, you think we’ll be safe?”

Steve rolled onto his back and huffed out a breath. “Maybe…but what if the next person to go missing is your mom? Or Nancy? Or Dustin? I’m not sure I’d be able to live with myself. Hell Johnny, what if you were the next one gone?”

Jonathan wondered if Steve really would have missed him. He acted that way, sure. But Jonathan had been raised in a world where the only people he could really trust were his mom and brother.

“We’ve got to at least try then, right? Try and figure it out?” Jonathan’s voice still wavered hesitantly.

“Right,” Steve agreed more confidently.

“Maybe we can work with them, the energy people.”

“Maybe. We’ve worked together before,” this time Steve sounded hesitant.

“Yeah…but it does sort of feel like signing a deal with the devil doesn’t it?”

“You’re not wrong there.”

There was a long pause between the two.

“Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve sounded much sleepier now.

Jonathan thought about the woman he’d seen outside Mrs. Chaplin’s. She’d made him nervous, scared even. But hearing a sleepy Steve made Jonathan rethink telling the other man. Steve didn’t need the added stress.

“Goodnight,” Jonathan said, swallowing his confession.

“Night Johnny,” Steve mumbled.

It was only seconds after that, Steve started snoring. And then a few minutes later Jonathan himself fell asleep, which turned out to be an awful mistake.

***

The first sensation he felt was cold.

Colder than his bedroom.

Impossibly cold.

Jonathan was back outside room 012.

The door opened at his thought, and as he walked over the threshold, something dropped from the frame onto his shoulder. He felt it wriggle. He couldn’t move. He felt the thing slide across his back, down his spine, he was paralyzed.

Jonathan looked up. The man was still in the bed. His hair was longer. His face was dirtier. The medical panels and machines around him were all turned off, covered in goo. 

The man’s lips opened a crack and he whispered, “Save me.”

The world around Jonathan began to shake and the man in the bed spasmed into a violent fit. The glass of the instruments around the room shattered. The man in the bed roared.

The blackened windows smashed, and for the first time Jonathan could see outside the hospital room. The sky was red with and full of lightning out there, like the clouds were made of napalm and the atmosphere was on fire.

***

Jonathan woke to Steve shaking him.

“Johnny, you alright?”

Jonathan sat up and tried to get his bearings. “Ugh, yeah. I think. Bad dream.”

“Johnny you were shouting. And you’re sweating. I was worried.”

Jonathan saw that concern reflected in Steve’s widened eyes. They were so open. He was so open. Jonathan couldn’t bear to think that Steve was anything less than the man he saw in front of him right now in this moment. Soft, protective, not in the least bit an asshole.

Steve’s posture loosened. “Well if you’re sure, I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Stay with me.” Jonathan didn’t think before he said it. He didn’t need to.

“I am. I’ve been staying with you for a week.” Steve laughed.

Jonathan shifted to make space on his bed. “Stay with me,” he repeated.

This time when Steve’s eyes bulged it wasn’t with concern, but understanding, and maybe, underneath that, Jonathan saw a fire.

Jonathan was sure if he was totally coherent and hadn’t just had a bad dream, that he wouldn’t have been nearly as bold. His heart should be hammering, but it wasn’t, it beat a steady rhythm.

“You sure?” Steve asked permission. There was no disgust in his voice, no shame, no guilt.

Now that Jonathan was waking up he didn’t trust himself to talk. He nodded.

He turned his back on a conflicted looking Steve to face and faced the wall. At least this way Steve wouldn’t have to see the hurt on Jonathan’s face once he rejected him.

Jonathan’s eyes shot open when he felt the blanket lift and the bed sink.

The heat from Steve’s body under the covers washed away the lingering feeling of the dream from Jonathan’s bones.

Both of them were tense. The situation was too new. Too risky.

Steve rolled over and Jonathan felt his breath against his neck. “Is this okay?” Steve whispered. His words dusted across Jonathan’s ear and blew a few stay hairs out of place.

“Yeah,” Jonathan breathed.

Neither wanted to break the spell and ruin things. But they knew they were on a knife’s edge. Either this crumbled now, or they were all in. There was no in-between here.

“This?” Steve snaked an arm over Jonathan’s side and let it drape over the other man’s stomach.

“Yes.”

Steve gripped Jonathan’s underside and pulled him back slowly until they were flush against each other.

“This?”

Jonathan could only nod. He was too afraid if he spoke his voice would break.

Steve weighed up what he was feeling right now, in bed, cuddling Jonathan Byers. What would people think? Nothing had ever felt as good as this moment.

Society was wrong. This wasn’t sick. This was perfection.

Steve placed a small kiss on the top of Jonathan’s spine and they both fell asleep, feeling like warm butter wrapped in pastry.


	5. Dominoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting those angst levels up, and treating you to a bit of the sexy sexy. 
> 
> The next chapter will be about 11,000 words. So brace yourself for that.

Steve wasn’t really aware of what the teacher was saying.

In fact, he hadn’t been aware of much of anything all day.

He’d woken with Jonathan nestled against his chest, and that’s where his thoughts had remained.

Steve didn’t mind school, didn’t hate it, didn’t love it. But today things were going painfully slow. He couldn’t wait for school to be over, for dinner to be finished, and for it to be time to go to bed.

“Mr. Harrington.”

“Yes miss?” Steve’s English teacher was staring down at him, eyes narrowed.

“I was just saying, if you’d rather be somewhere else, you might as well leave now.”

“If you don’t mind,” Steve said absently, grabbing his bag and walking out of the class. Not concerned with the stares he got from the other students.

He wandered the corridors aimlessly, pondering last night’s events. Was it just the nightmare that had made Jonathan reach out? Would Jonathan expect Steve to return to the floor tonight?

Steve tried not to get his hopes up, but his chest was buzzing with the desire to hold Jonathan again.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts of being wrapped up that he walked straight into Hopper. “Hop!” he startled.

“Hey Steve.” Hopper shook his huge hand with Steve’s small one.

“What’re you doing here?”

“What’re you doing out of class?” Hopper countered.

“Study period.” Steve flashed him a smile.

“Not buying it.” Hopper looked backed through the door he’d walked out of and waved goodbye to a very distracted looking principal Salem. “Walk with me,” Hopper said to Steve and led the way out of the building and into the sun.

“Everything alright chief?”

Hopper lit a smoke and took a long drag. “When was the last time everything was alright, Steve?”

“Too long.”

Hopper went quiet, kept smoking. And then, “Your lunch lady’s gone missing.”

Steve leaned back against the building. ‘We gotta do something.”

“You’re telling me.”

“How do we go about this?”

“Was gonna ask you three the same question. I’m in the dark just as much as anyone right now.”

Steve had a real think about what they should do. He’d spoken to Nancy and Jonathan after visiting Mrs. Chaplin, and they’d agreed they needed to approach the Department of Energy, they just weren’t sure how.

“We could go to their facility? Try and get some answers? At best we could work with them, at worst we could get some information out of them.”

“You’re right, we’ve got nothing to lose.” Hopper stabbed out his cigarette on the wall. “We’ll go on Monday, have the weekend to yourselves. Try not to stress.”

Steve nodded. “Good call. Rushing this would be a mistake.”

“Tell the other two I’ll pick you all up from school on Monday, midday. Joyce won’t like you missing any more school, but I’ll ask nicely.”

Steve waved Hopper goodbye, trying very hard not to think about what he meant.

“Oh, and Steve?”

Steve looked up.

“Spend some more time hitting the books, and less time being loved up okay?” Hopper smirked. “It’s all over your face, Harrington.”

***

School finished. Jonathan met Steve at the car. Will showed up, looking angrily at anything but Jonathan, apparently still pissed after last night’s fight.

“I’ll drop you guys off at home and then head to the theatre. I’ve taken the late shift so I can have tomorrow night off.”

Steve nodded. Will ignored him.

They drove in silence, Steve seemed to have a lot on his mind, because he was humming and tapping a tune out of rhythm of the dashboard.

When they pulled up outside home, Will immediately flew out of the car and into the house, slamming both doors behind him.

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

Steve scoffed. “Very dramatic. Typical Byers.”

Jonathan swatted at him.

“I’ll chat to him while you’re at the theatre, talk some sense into him.”

“Thanks Steve, appreciate it.”

Steve got out and leaned back in through the passenger window. “I’ll see you when you get home?” He phrased it as a question, tentative. Feeling out the lay of the land now they were in the cold light of day, were things the same? Better? Worse?

Jonathan smiled, blushed and said, “Sure, keep the bed warm for me.”

Without leaving time for a reply, Jonathan whirled his car out of the driveway and down the street back into town, still grinning.

***

Steve threw himself down into the couch, unable to contain his smile. He laced his hands behind his head and sighed. He could get used to this life. Going to school, cooking dinner, getting to sleep in the same bed as Jonathan Byers.

Hell, he’d even take the monster hunting on the side if he got to keep this up.

Steve heard a scuffling sound, he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone.

Will entered the lounge but stopped dead upon seeing Steve.

“Hey dude,” Steve said casually.

Will lifted his eyebrows in greeting.

“Sit down. Let’s talk.”

“We never talk.”

“Then this is a perfect time to start.” Steve was learning that not every kid was as easy to crack as Dustin, Will was especially difficult, but what should he expect from Jonathan’s brother?

Will shrugged and sat down on the other sofa.

“So how’ve things been, man?” Steve asked.

“Be a lot better if you and Jonathan told us what’s going on,” Will snapped.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. You treat us like kids.”

“Well, you kinda-” Steve tried.

But Will cut him off. “Are kids? Yeah. But in case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve handled more than most adults, and we’re not even teenagers yet.”

Steve hadn’t ever heard Will raise his voice before, and the shock must have shown on his face because some of the anger left Will’s expression.

“I can see how that might be frustrating.” Steve nodded.

“So you understand?”

“Sure.”

“So you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

Steve sniggered, sat up, and eyeballed Will. “You think I’m gonna risk pissing Jonathan off like that? He’d never speak to me again.”

“Ah, but you’d have my respect to get you through,” Will tried to smooth.

Steve forgot how mature Will was sometimes, not to mention that dry wit he shared with Jonathan, that really got him. “Not a chance Little Byers.”

“Ass,” Will said, without venom.

“But how about I talk to Johnny and see if he’ll change his mind?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

There was a long pause where neither spoke, but Steve could sense Will was on the verge of saying something.

“My brother’s never really had a friend before,” Will said slowly.

“No, I don’t suppose he has.” Steve knew Jonathan hadn’t had friends, he knew he’d been alone for a long time, and that made his heart ache.

“You won’t hurt him, will you Steve?”

The question didn’t really take Steve by surprise. It seemed people became very protective over the elder Byers boy. Something Steve himself could relate to. He’d happily fight anyone who looked at Jonathan in the wrong way, let alone hurt him.

“I’ll do my best Little Byers.”

“I hope so Steve, because I don’t know if he could handle being hurt by you.” Will got up and left the room.

Nothing would get in the way of Jonathan being happy and safe. Steve just hoped he was a part of Jonathan’s happiness.

Steve cooked dinner, ate with Will, chit-chatted a little. Will seemed content with Steve’s promise to try and talk Jonathan into sharing what was going on with Will.

They cleaned the dishes and watched some T.V. but shortly after the sun had set, Steve left Will watching a show about zoos, and got ready for bed.

It was a bit early to be sleeping, but by getting ready for bed, he could trick himself into thinking Jonathan would be joining him sooner.

He washed up, got dressed into Jonathan’s blue cotton pajama set, the one with bright yellow ducks printed onto them, pulled up the mass of blankets, and buried himself under them.

Steve thought about his future. Their future.

Marriage was out of the question. Two men couldn’t get married. They never would.

He’d be giving up his chance at a family. In truth though, he’d never considered being a father. He was only eighteen, but the idea had never really struck him as something he’d enjoy.

He could be the cool uncle to Nancy’s kids. She’d like that.

He scoffed at himself. He was spending all this time thinking about their future together, and he didn’t even know what Jonathan thought, he hadn’t even considered that Jonathan didn’t want a future with him.

But he realized every time he pictured himself in five years, ten years, fifty years, he was stood next to the silent, but smiling, Jonathan.

As Steve hazily drifted into sleep, he wondered what Jonathan thought of when he pictured his own future, and if he pictured Steve standing next to him.

***

Jonathan finished sweeping cinema three and returned to the counter. It never ceased to amaze him just how much popcorn made it onto the floor. It was quiet for a Friday, even though curfew wasn’t until sunset, people were still too nervous to leave their homes in the late afternoon. Hawkins was a ghost town, and so was the theatre. There were a few people in cinema four watching a soppy romance, but that was about it.

He was working the shift with Eric, a guy in the same year as him in school, but they barely exchanged hello’s when they crossed paths, and did that awkward don’t-really-know-you-but-know-you smile. Eric kept to himself, Jonathan kept to himself, it was a mutual coolness.

The theatre wasn’t an exciting job, wasn’t particularly hard or challenging, but it was a space for Jonathan to be alone with his thoughts most of the time. And the money helped. It meant his mom didn’t have to work double shifts every day.

Jonathan topped up the popcorn machine and let the air fill with its buttery smell. He’d become immune to the smell of butter shortly after starting his job, but sometimes he’d be on his way to school and get a whiff of it from his hair, and feel self-conscious for the rest of the day. On top of everything he hardly needed to be known for smelling like butter as well.

Jonathan tapped his fingers on the glass of the counter. He’d never been bored at work before, he always had thoughts to chase around his head, keeping him busy. But today was different. Today he had something to go home to. Someone to go home to.

Hardly the priority right now, Jonathan chided himself.

There were bigger things to worry about, and he did his best thinking when he was at work not working.

How did one approach a secret government organization and accuse them of being involved in a conspiracy that had left people dead and missing, that was tonight’s question to solve.

Jonathan was skeptical though. He hadn’t been out to the facility since they’d all gone to rescue Will and his mom. Not since Bob had died and the facility had been overrun.

His hope was that they’d go to the facility, and see it shut down, still in the destroyed state they’d left it in.

But a tiny niggling told him that was a hapless dream.

Maybe though, he argued with himself, if the Department of Energy was capturing the Demogorgons, they didn’t need to get involved at all. In fact, if they bunkered down, he was sure in a few weeks they’d have it all cleared up.

Right?

Wrong.

Even with the resources of the government behind them, they still hadn’t managed to out-do six pre-pubescent kids. The Department of Energy were a nightmare. They cared more about the science than they did about human life. That was where they and Nancy differed.

See Nancy loved science, but Jonathan knew she’d never jeopardize someone’s life for an experiment.

Working with the scientists had left a sour taste in Jonathan’s mouth. A few had redeemed themselves the night of the facility attack, but the damage done to his family outweighed that sacrifice.

Bob. Barb. Countless unnamed.

What they’d done to Eleven.

What they’d put Will through.

They could never be trusted. They had no concern for collateral damage. Jonathan supposed curiosity was the driving force behind their work, and maybe that’s why they failed so often.

Whereas his mom, Hopper, the kids, the teenagers – their driver was survival, that’s why they succeeded where the department had failed, because they didn’t have a choice.

“Hey man.”

Jonathan snapped from his thoughts – Eric was standing in front of him. “Oh hey.”

“There’s only cinema four left, you can head off and I’ll finish up here if you like.”

Eric was a nice enough guy, and as Jonathan covered his shifts sometimes, Eric tried his best to pay him back.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, no worries.”

Jonathan thought about getting home and finding Steve asleep in his bed. He’d take Eric up in a heartbeat.

“Thanks dude.” Jonathan beamed at Eric, who looked quite surprised to see this level of emotion from Jonathan.

***

Jonathan parked up next to his mom’s car, behind Steve’s. Their house was beginning to look like a used car lot.

He registered the spring in his step as he bounced to the door, but couldn’t tone it down. He unlocked the door, feeling tired enough that he could just rush to bed without eating.

But life, as always, had a way of roadblocking.

“Hey Mom.” Joyce was still in her uniform and had just flicked the kettle on.

She crossed the kitchen, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him. “Hey sweetie.”

Ever since Will had disappeared into the Upside-Down, his mom had been far warmer and affectionate with both of her kids. Jonathan had realized, in those dark days, that he needed his mom’s hugs just as much as she did.

“How was work?” Jonathan set about finishing his mom’s coffee and making himself a tea.

Joyce opened the fridge and giggled. Jonathan looked up and saw her holding a plate covered in aluminum foil. It had a little note taped to it saying ‘Don’t forget to eat – S’.

Joyce put the plate on the table, laughing, while Jonathan blushed furiously.

“Oh,” Joyce said, pulling out another foil-clad plate with the note ‘You too Mrs. B’ attached. Joyce sighed. “It’s nice having someone in the house who not only cooks, but cares, isn’t it?”

Jonathan ignored her and the pair settled down at the table, and began eating their cold macaroni cheese. They’d have heated it, but Joyce was too hungry, and Jonathan was too lazy.

“He really is good to have around the house,” Joyce continued between mouthfuls.

Jonathan looked anywhere but his mom’s eyes.

“Don’t you think?” she pushed.

Jonathan played with the food on his plate. “I suppose.”

“He’s such a sweet boy.” Jonathan could hear the lilt in his mom’s voice, he waited for the finishing blow. “I was thinking, we could set up the sofa bed in the lounge, so he’s more comfortable off the floor in your room.”

“No,” Jonathan snapped. He then did his best to act casually. “I mean, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Joyce had a small, but definitely smug smile on her lips. “Well if you’re sure.”

“I said he’s fine on the floor.”

“Oh yes, the _floor_.” Joyce air-quoted around the word.

Jonathan had a spike of panic that his mother had seen Steve in his bed. But so what? Heaps of friends shared beds at sleepovers. It was cold. It was more comfortable than the floor.

They finished eating and moved to the sink. Joyce washed. Jonathan dried. They both tried to make as little noise as possible.

“Jonathan…”

“Yes?” he returned, closing up and getting ready to shut her down.

“Do we need to, you know, have the talk?” Joyce looked uncomfortable and it took a moment for Jonathan to catch on.

“Wha- Mom- Stop- No- Why.” Jonathan flushed, his heart-rate picking up until it pounded. His mom knew. She must have seen them in bed, seen Steve wrapped around him. This was it, he’d have to move out. His mom wouldn’t want one living in the house. He wondered where he’d go, if Steve would go with him?

“Okay, okay, I just thought it was the responsible mom thing to ask.” She shrugged and went back to the dishes.

“You’re not mad?”

Joyce looked angry for a split second. “Mad? Mad that my son might be happy? Mad that he’s different? Honey, your brother was possessed by an inter-dimensional tentacle demon that tried to take over the planet, what’s a little homosexual compared to that?”

Jonathan felt the sweet relief of her acceptance. “Well, when you put it like that…” He was giddy with her approval, the panic he’d felt before lay forgotten at the back of his mind.

He smiled, laughed a little, and hugged his teary-eyed mother. “Don’t be weird Mom.”

“I’m just happy is all. A lot of awful things happen to this family, and I don’t imagine we’re through with it all yet, so any bit of happiness is welcome.”

“So he can stay?” Jonathan asked tentatively.

Joyce nodded. “Just, you know, be safe okay?”

Jonatan’s felt his face heat up again. “I’m not like, in love with him or anything.”

“Oh sure. Of course not.” Her eyebrows disagreed with her. “You head to bed, I’ll finish up. Remember, here if you need me.”

Jonathan kissed her cheek and left the kitchen, showered quicker than he ever had before, and crept into his room, wrapped only in a towel.

A thin slice of light shot through the doorway and landed on a sleeping human in all his glory, mouth hanging open, hair a complete mess. It was the rawest Jonathan had ever seen him look, and it set his heart scattering.

Steve Harrington was the most gorgeous thing in this dimension. Jonathan was willing to bet he was more angelic that anything in any other dimension too.

Jonathan pulled on some pajamas quickly and stood and the edge of the bed, lost. He didn’t have the confidence to just hop in the bed like Steve had. And even if he did, Steve was sprawled like a starfish across the bed.

He’d fought and trapped monsters. One devastatingly beautiful teenager in bed couldn’t best him. Could he?

No. He was Jonathan Byers, and he was getting into his bed with Steve Harrington. If for no other reason than to escape the cold chill that was seeping into his skin.

Jonathan lifted the covers and slid in next to Steve, reached an arm over him, and nestled his head into the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve smelled like soap and musk. Jonathan inhaled deeply.

“Are you sniffing me, Byers?”

Jonathan smiled into Steve’s neck.

“Creep,” Steve laughed, and worked his arm under Jonathan, dragging him closer. “How was your night?” his voice was deep and ragged with sleep, it electrified parts of Jonathan he’d rather not think about as they lay together.

“No complaints.”

It was Steve’s turn to sniff Jonathan. “Your hair still smells like butter.”

“Oh, I can go wash it?” Jonathan tried to wriggle away.

Steve tightened his grip, growling into Jonathan’s ear, “But I love butter.”

That growl did something to Jonathan’s body that had him blushing all over. He had no idea he could feel like this, feel so hungry. After the feeling died down a little Jonathan asked, “How was your night?” Successfully keeping the moan from his voice.

The growl was gone, and the light and breezy Steve had returned. “Not bad. Chilled with Will. Watched T.V. Cooked dinner.”

“Mmm. Thank you for that.”

Steve started to rub circles on Jonathan’s back, and much to Jonathan’s embarrassment, a purr left his mouth.

Jonathan felt Steve’s laughter shake through his chest, and he snuggled closer, trying to hide.

“Sooo…” Steve led.

Jonathan’s heart spiked, was this the point where Steve asked what was going on between them? Was he going to break the spell, ruin it all? Was this how Steve started his rejection conversations?

“While you were out…” Steve said quickly.

The mood changed, this wasn’t _the_ conversation. Jonathan looked up to fine Steve staring at the ceiling. “What have you done?”

“Why do you always assume it was me who did something?” Steve’s attempt at outrage wasn’t going to stop Jonathan.

“Because it _is_ always you.”

“That can’t be statistically true.”

“Can’t it?”

Steve sniggered.

“So?” Jonathan prompted.

“Well I was talking to Will.”

“Yes?”

“And the topic of what’s going on in the town came up.”

“Oh, just came up naturally in conversation did it?” Jonathan pursed his lips.

“Well, kinda. Anyway, I said I’d talk to you about filling them in.”

Jonathan was silent, so Steve brought his eyes down from the ceiling to meet his.

“I was thinking the same,” Jonathan said.

“You were?” Steve sighed, thinking he’d dodged a bullet.

“Yeah. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. What are you, the Jonathan manipulator now?” Jonathan tried to sound mad, but couldn’t quite pull it off.

“It would seem so.” Steve grinned down at him.

Jonathan hmphed back onto Steve’s chest. “They’re smart kids. They’ll figure things out by themselves soon anyway, but one of them will probably end up dying.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“When am I ever?” Jonathan turned his head and rested his chin between Steve’s firm pecs. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath. “Steve, you remember that first night? When you saw that person outside your house?”

Steve tensed up a little, nodded.

“I saw a woman when we were at Mrs. Chaplin’s. She smiled at me.”

Steve took some extra deep breaths.

“You think we’re being followed?” Jonathan’s eyes were big and reflected the moonlight that came in through the window.

“Probably.”

Jonathan looked scared.

Steve squeezed him. “But I won’t let them near us. No one’s ever going to hurt us again, I promise.”

A small smiled pulled onto Jonathan’s lips, which Steve mirrored.

“Goodnight Byers.” Steve kissed Jonathan’s forehead.

“Goodnight Harrington,” Jonathan sighed.

***

Steve could die. Right here.

Nothing existed beyond this bed.

Jonathan’s head was right where it had been when they’d fallen asleep, resting on his chest. His self-control was tested each time he was around Jonathan. He’d fought it for so long, but he’d given in, he’d given in so many times to Jonathan.

Giving in hadn’t let him down so far. But the temptations were constant. Before he could ignore the urge to brush past him, touch his hand. Now he had to resist pinning him down and devouring him. His self-control hadn’t developed like his needs had. What hope did he have when Jonathan looked up at him like he had last night, lips so plump and ready. Steve wanted those lips on his, on his body, moving down his body, and swallowing him.

Jonathan stirred.

Steve had to squeeze his eyes shut and clear his mind, before Jonathan woke up and realized just how much he liked sharing a bed with him.

He wouldn’t pressure Jonathan. He wouldn’t force anything. Jonathan would come to him when he was ready, if he was ever ready. Steve could wait. His long showers sustained him for now. He wasn’t even sure if Jonathan would be interested in him like that, that perhaps Jonathan sought comfort and friendship from him. Sure, they were close, and they cuddled in bed, but that didn’t mean anything did it?

The phone rang out in the hallway and Jonathan grumbled.

Steve smoothed Jonathan’s hair, working his hand through the strands.

“Mmmorning,” Jonathan yawned.

“Hey sleepy.” Steve grinned, happy that the blood had left his crotch and returned to the rest of his body.

“Timeisit?”

Steve craned his neck and checked his watch on the bedside table. “Just after seven.”

The phone rang again. “Who in the name of Nixon, is calling us at seven on a Saturday.”

“Should I go get it?” Steve asked.

“No.” Jonathan koala clutched Steve, pulling one leg over the other man’s body to keep him in place.

Steve cleared his mind. He really tried. It wasn’t working. The blood rushed and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Jonathan’s eyes snapped to Steve’s. They widened. “Steve…is that…” He bit his lip and that was enough for Steve.

The phone rang again.

Steve’s own eyes widened as he felt Jonathan’s response, pressing against his side.

There was a long pause, where the contact was enough, and then Jonathan moved. Slowly. Pressing closer, adding pressure to them both.

Steve’s moan was echoed by Jonathan’s.

It was slow. It was strong. Neither broke their eye contact. Each was searching the other’s eyes for acceptance, permission, pleasure. They found it all.

Steve moved his body in time with Jonathan’s, doubling the friction. Their pace quickened.

The phone had stopped ringing. There were footsteps in the hallway.

Someone knocked on the door and they both stilled, pressed against each other painfully hard.

“Jonathan,” Joyce half-whispered and opened the door. To Joyce it must have just looked like they were laid in bed together. She couldn’t see under the covers. She couldn’t see them both hard and leaking.

“Sweetie, someone’s gone missing.”

Steve didn’t have to clear his mind to soften himself this time, it happened almost instantly on its own.

“That boy Eric, the one from the theatre, he’s gone.” 

 


	6. The Leader

_The first people to settle in Hawkins were led by a man without compromise._

_Their leader was a man by the name of Bishop._

_He felt his duty burn in his soul, never losing focus, never waning from his goal._

_They walked through the sweltering drylands, they marched through bitter frosts, always with Bishop at the forefront._

_Bishop didn’t consult any maps. He didn’t listen to any advisors._

_When clouds cloaked the stars and his people lost all sense of direction, Bishop didn’t slow his step._

_One day, months into their trek, Bishop stopped in the middle of a desolate field._

_“We’re here.”_


	7. Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of two chapters today.
> 
> Didn't drink any wine while editing these, so I've got no excuse for typos. Forgive. 
> 
> The thing happens that should have happened a while ago but didn't happen and now it's happened and you can thank me.

The students were buzzing on Monday morning.

Principal Salem had called a whole school assembly during first period.

Even the middle school was there. Steve spotted Dustin and Lucas searching the crowd, looking just as confused as Steve felt.

Steve made his way over to them. He slapped Dustin’s hand and proceeded to complete their secret handshake. “Hey Lucas.”

“What’s going on?” Dustin asked.

“Who knows, all I know is I’m happy not being in biology right now,” Steve shrugged.

“Yeah, no maths for us today. Bonus, I guess, weird though,” Lucas said.

“Weird is the new normal around here.” Steve looked around, hoping to see Jonathan.

“You think it has something to do with the secret you’re hiding from us?” Dustin asked innocently.

“Maybe,” Steve replied. Then checked himself, “Dustin!”

“You could tell me Steve, we’re friends. Bros. I look up to you. You’re sort of my hero.” Dustin looked at his feet.

For a moment Steve considered telling Dustin what he knew. But in a flash remembered that he wasn’t supposed to, that Jonathan was going to tell them soon anyway. Dustin’s manipulation had fallen short. “Cut the lisp and the doe-eyes Dustin, I expected more from you.”

Before Dustin could defend himself, Will, Eleven, Max and Mike turned up. They all said hey to him, except Eleven, who just nodded. She’d been doing pretty well when it came to school, and from what Hopper had said she hardly ever used her powers accidentally now.

Steve felt someone brush up behind him, knowing there was only one person who would dare to be that familiar, he smiled at Jonathan.

Before they could talk, Principal Salem stood on a make-shift platform and rang out across the hundreds of students, “Settle down.”

They sat down along the bleachers, and Jonathan squeezed a middle-school girl out of the way and dropped next to Steve, resting his hand casually on the other man’s leg.

“I’ll make this quick,” Principal Salem said, as the last few students settled. “There has been an outbreak of a non-lethal disease in Indianapolis.” A sea of whispers grew until people were outright talking.

Steve leaned in to Jonathan. “You know what the best thing about a disease is? It has absolutely nothing to do with another dimension.”

“Amen to human-related disasters.” They both laughed.

“Alright. I said non-lethal. Calm down.” Salem chided. She would usually have been irritated, even angry. But her voice didn’t have its usual boom, it was clipped and tight. “The government is taking precautions.”

A line of men and women dressed in white hospital gowns filed in through the gym doors. They had bags of equipment, were wearing disposable gloves, and all looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“Do they remind you of-” Steve whispered.

Jonathan cut him off. “Yes.”

“Should be get out of-”

“Yes.” Jonathan gestured to the door and Steve nudged Dustin, who nudged Will, who nudged Lucas, who nudged Max, who nudged Mike, who nudged Eleven.

When principal Salem started talking again, the eight of them got to their feet, crouching low, and made their way towards the side doors.

“These people from the Centre for Disease Control are here to test each student and make sure no one is carrying the virus.”

Steve and the rest of them reached the door, before he could touch it, it flew open, and standing before them was none other than Dr. Brenner.

Steve took them in, on either side of Brenner was two men, each holding a very large gun.

“Papa,” Eleven spat.

“Hello, Jane,” Brenner said softly, smiling down at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him and everyone could feel the pressure building in the air.

Steve’s ears popped, Jonathan’s head started to prickle with pain, and a thin line of blood ran from El’s nose.

Before it could go any further, Principal Salem bustled over. “Now, are the guns really necessary? This is a school!” Her eyes were bulging.

Dr. Brenner turned up his silky charm. “I’m afraid so, Principal. This disease turns people particularly violent.” His eyes landed on Steve and Jonathan, who both returned his gaze with fire.

“Well, if you insist.”

“I must.”

“Well then let’s get started, shall we?”

“Let’s.”

A loud ringing filled their ears as El pulled back her top lip in a fierce growl.

Mike grabbed her hand and squeezed. The ringing dropped.

Two of the armed men waited at the doors, blocking them. Principal Salem, the other two guards, and Brenner walked back to the make-shift stage, all the student’s eyes locked on them.

Principal Salem made to speak, but Brenner stepped forward, cutting her off. “My people will be drawing a blood sample from each of you. Staff included.” The staff standing around the edge of the rom tittered at this news.  “Form orderly lines and we’ll get this done within the hour.”

Half a dozen hospital-gown wearing workers surrounded Steve and the others. “You lot can go first.”

Steve exchanged a look with Jonathan. It didn’t appear like they had much choice.

Steve took a seat at one of the testing stations. An expressionless woman ruthlessly stabbed him in the arm and withdrew a vial of blood. He could see the same thing happening to each of his friends down the long line of stations.

The only person not getting blood taken was Eleven. Steve supposed Brenner didn’t want to risk one of her episodes. If she’d have wanted to, she could kill every person in this room.

Steve pushed back from his station and strode away.

“We need to leave. Now,” Jonathan said to Steve, gripping his shoulder.

The only positive to having been first, was that they were the first to leave.

“Outside,” Jonathan pulled Will and Mike along.

They barreled through the doors and exploded into life.

“What’s going on?”

“Why are they here?”

“What do they want?”

“Shut up would you!” Steve yelled.

Silence.

“Steve, I have to get to Hopper and tell him they’re here.”

“Go.”

“You’ll stay with the kids? Fill them in?”

“Sure.”

“Be safe okay?” Jonathan hugged him, and ran to his car.

When Steve returned to the group of kids they were all staring at him open-mouthed, except Will, who didn’t seem at all surprised at the display of affection.

“Wow,” Dustin said.

“Okay,” from Lucas.

“That’s new.” Mike’s eyebrows were high.

“Different.” Max shrugged.

“Cute,” Eleven mumbled.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Nancy said, coming up behind them, out of breath. “It took me ages to push to the front of the queue.”

“Are we gonna talk about…” Dustin gestured to Jonathan’s disappearing car.

“Talk about the fact that the evil scientists are back, people are going missing again, and monsters are on the loose? Yeah. We’re gonna talk about that,” Steve said with one eyebrow raised.

Nancy hid her laugh behind her hand.

***

 

Jonathan sped through the streets of Hawkins, screeching to a halt outside the police station.

He dashed inside, leaving the ignition running.

“What’s all this fuss about?” Sweet old Florence was on the front desk, but he didn’t have time for her right now.

“Where’s Hopper?”

When Florence didn’t reply immediately, Jonathan raised his voice. “I need to see Hopper. Now.”

“You could do with rolling back the attitude young man. Hopper’s at the theatre. I’ll be speaking to your mother you know.”

Jonathan was already out the door and sliding back into the car. He knew Hopper was probably at the theatre investigating Eric’s disappearance. Time was slipping away from him and he knew if Hopper didn’t get to the school quick, Brenner would be gone.

The car had barely stopped before the door was open and Jonathan was rushing through the theatre doors.

“Hopper!” he yelled, pulling up the yellow tape and ducking underneath it.

He spotted Hopper talking to another officer by the doors to cinema four, smoking.

“Hop!”

He knew he sounded desperate, and Hopper must have heard it to because he was immediately alert.  

“Brenner. At the school. Now.”

***

Hopper’s truck pulled up seconds before Jonathan’s Ford.

They were too late. Steve had taken the kids to a safe distance across the road at a diner, and watched as Brenner and his people got into their vans and sped away.

Dustin had been all for stopping them, but Steve wasn’t going to risk them all just to get even. And those guards with the guns looked more than happy to pull their triggers.

“El.” Hopper swept Eleven up into a hug. Hopper had decided against calling Eleven Jane. El didn’t like it, and the only people who called her Jane were people she didn’t trust. “You okay?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Where is he?” cold fury filled his voice.

“Gone.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“No,” Eleven was firm.

“I didn’t mean-” Hopper backtracked.

“ _I’ll_ kill him.”

Hopper smiled, ruffled Eleven’s hair. “That’s my girl.”

Now that he knew Eleven was safe, the chief turned to Jonathan and Steve. “Ready to do something stupid?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Steve said.

“Got nothing else on.” Jonathan shrugged.

Hopper turned to Nancy. “You too. We might need someone to drive the bodies home. The rest of you, back to class.”

Hopper ignored the outraged yells from the kids.

Jonathan, Steve, and Nancy climbed into the chief’s truck.

“Now…how many of you have shot a gun?” Hopper skidded out of the school carpark.

***

As luck would have it, all three of them had experience shooting.

Lonnie had forced Jonathan into the forest from a young age and taught him to shoot so he’d ‘learn to be a man’.

Steve had stolen his father’s gun when he was a teenager and had target practiced with cans in the back yard.

But the surprise was Nancy. Who had been sneaking off to the gun range every Saturday since the week Barb had vanished. She would never again let herself feel helpless.

“Every weekend?” Steve asked, mouth open.

“Every single one.”

Even Hopper was impressed. “Smart girl Nance. There’s a lockbox between the seats back there.” Hopper tossed the keys back to Nancy who unlocked the small safe and pulled three handguns out. She passed one to Steve, and one to Jonathan, and kept the last as her own.

“We gonna need these, Hop?” Jonathan asked, stuffing his gun into the inside of his jacket.

“Better safe than sorry,” Hopper said grimly.

“What’s the plan?” Nancy asked, leaning between the two front seats.

Hopper pulled a confused face, as if a plan hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Drive in. Find Brenner. Ask him what he’s playing at. If he doesn’t talk. Persuade him.” Hopper paused. “Even if he does talk, we should probably still shoot him.”

“And if they set monsters on us?” Nancy leaned back.

“That’s what you’ve got guns for.”

This was dangerous. Steve was anxious, excited, scared. He was almost fizzing. He reached through the gap in the seats and snuck his hand into Jonathan’s.

Jonathan squeezed. “We’ll be fine.”

The gates to the scientist’s facility were open and unmanned.

“Ominous,” Nancy mumbled.

They slammed to a halt outside the main entrance, but hesitated to get out of the truck.

“This feel weird to anyone else?” Hop said.

“Totally.” Nancy was peering out the window, looking for signs of movement.

“Yep.” Steve cocked his gun.

“Most definitely.” Jonathan unbelted his seat.

They got out slowly, eyes darting all around, and moved as a pack through the front doors.

A perky woman with a bright smile sat behind the reception desk. “You must be here to see doctor Brenner. Take the lift on the left. Seventh floor, someone should be waiting.”

She batted her eyelids.

Hopper flicked the fastening off his holster, pulled out his gun, and led the way to the elevators.

The woman watched them closely as they moved, she didn’t seem like slightest bit worried about the gun.

The lift dinged open, empty.

They rode it to the seventh floor and it dinged again. This time when it opened there were looking at a young man. Hopper pointed the gun at his head.

Like the woman on the desk, he didn’t seem phased by the gun. It was as if they all thought Hopper wouldn’t pull the trigger. Steve however, didn’t have a doubt that if Hopper thought Eleven was in any sort of danger, he would shoot every person in this complex.

The man was maybe mid-twenties but his hair had already started greying, which left him with an attractive salt-and-pepper look. He worse rounded glasses which had thick black frames.

“And who the hell are you?” Hopper said, not lowering the gun.

“Edmond James. Dr. James around here.” He held out his hand to shake Hoppers, but retracted it as the chief cocked the handgun. “Alrighty then. Follow me. Any questions, just yell out.” He turned and began striding down the hallway.

The facility was just as clinical as Jonathan remembered, the blinding white walls, not a speck of dirt in sight. A memory flickered at the back of Jonathan’s mind, but vanished as he tried to seize it.

Without a choice but to follow, the four of them started off behind him, Hopper kept the gun trained on the back of Dr. James’ head.

“Yeah, just a few questions,” Steve said, speeding up so Dr. James could hear him.

“Sure!” the level of enthusiasm in the doctor’s tone was unbearable. And a part of Jonathan wished Hopper would slip and pull his trigger.

Steve went in hard. “Are you kidnapping, and or, murdering the people of Hawkins?”

The doctor turned to the side to look at Steve’s his smile had faltered. He spoke softly, “No. There have been a few er… unfortunate incidents with stray units.”

“Stray units,” Jonathan repeated. “You mean monsters.”

Dr. James turned left to look at Jonathan. “Monsters are a matter of perspective.”

“Sounds like someone trying to rationalize away horrific acts so they can avoid guilt,” Nancy said with a raised eyebrow.

“Perhaps if we could understand why they react the way they do, we might be able to learn from each other,” the doctor countered.

“I can tell you exactly what they want,” Jonathan spat. “You haven’t seen the Mind-Flayer, have you? Haven’t felt a Demogorgon’s breath on you as it tries to eat you alive, have you?”

The doctor had no response to that, and they walked in silence.

“Why did you test everyone’s blood?” Nancy half yelled from behind them, struggling to keep up.

“Oh,” the doctor said, “we had to test to see who’d had contact with anything other-dimensional, it will help us pinpoint…things.”

They stopped outside a door with a bronze plaque screwed to the door, etched with the words ‘Supervisor Brenner’.”

Dr. James knocked.

“Come in.”

The doctor opened the door and stepped aside, leaving them to enter the room alone.

The office was bare, only a large desk, behind which sat Dr. Brenner. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Hopper took two strides across the room and punched Brenner in the throat. “Expecting that were you?”

Brenner collapsed onto his desk, wheezing for air. Hopper leaned down and, growling in the doctor’s ear. “If you ever come near my daughter again, I’ll rip your heart out through your chest.”

Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy all stood back. They’d seen Hopper fighting with monsters and battling fiercely, but they’d never seen this pure hatred from him. All warmth from Eleven’s father figure was gone, and in his place stood a man capable of murder.

Dr. James entered the room looking alarmed. “Brenner?” he asked, unsure.

Brenner had turned a violent shade of purple, but was slowly regaining his breathing.

“Fine,” he gasped. “I’m fine.” He sat way back in his chair and rubbed at his throat.

Hopper stood back, breathing heavily, the gun shaking in his hand.

“That will be all Edmond,” Brenner waved him away and the other doctor left. “Take a seat.” He pointed at the two chairs opposite him.

Hopper sat, as did Nancy. Jonathan and Steve stood behind them, tensed.

“Now I think it’s best if we get on the same page,” Brenner’s voice still sounded quite rough, although he retained his blank and steady appearance.

Hopper seemed beyond words, so he just nodded.

“I understand all four of you have been keeping tabs on the disappearances. I’d tell you not to worry, but my past experience with you tells me that that would be pointless. So here’s what I’ll propose-”

Spurred on by Hopper’s attitude, and Steve at his side, Jonathan cut off Brenner. “Here’s what we’ll propose. You stay away from Eleven. Forever.”

“You’ll tell your suits to stop stalking us,” Steve chimed in.

“You’ll tell us exactly what’s going on with the monsters,” Hopper spat.

“And you’ll share everything you know about the gates, monsters, how to stop them, everything.”

Dr. Brenner looked amused. “And in return?”

“I won’t shoot you in the head,” Hopper was emotionless.

“In return,” Nancy appeased, “we’ll tell you what we know, and we’ll keep an eye on things in town. Consider us your team on the ground.”

“You’re just kids,” Brenner scoffed.

“Kids who have spent the last two years cleaning up your messes…” Steve waited for the doctor to disagree.

“Fair.” Brenner conceded with a nod.

“And if you don’t have to keep an eye on us,” Jonathan said, “you might actually be able to achieve something.”

“Now,” Nancy said primly, “Eleven closed the gate, so where are the Demogorgons coming from?”

Brenner switched from negotiator to scientist like a snap. “While the large gate was indeed sealed by _Jane_ , there were a number of splintered cracks across Hawkins. Not large, but large enough that the larval forms are able to squeeze through.”

“More Dartanians.” Steve winced. “Perfect.”

“Do you know where the cracks are?” Nancy asked.

“We’ve tagged a number of locations, they’re hard to find, they’re surrounded by a field of magnetic interreference. But even when we do find them, we lack the…skills to seal them.”

“If by skills, you mean El’s powers, you can think again. You’re not getting anywhere near her, and she’s not doing a damn thing for you.” Hopper’s anger was returning quickly.

“Not for me Mr. Hopper, for the town. If the cracks stay open, more creature will push through, more people will die.”

Hopper could see the logic. He grunted, unwilling to accept it with words.

“So we’re agreed? I’ll meet all your demands, but from here on out, we work together.”

“Funny,” Jonathan said without an ounce of humor in his voice. “Every time we _work_ together. People end up dead.”

The four of them looked at each other. It wasn’t ideal. No bargain with the scientists was going to be idea. But it was all they had.

“Agreed,” Hopper said.

“Good. Now take me to your scientists,” Nancy ordered. “I want to know all about this magnetic interference around the cracks.”

***

Hopper left them at the facility to go and pick up Eleven from school. Before he went he made sure they were okay, telling them to keep the guns, and to call the station if anything else remotely strange happened.

Jonathan and Steve followed Nancy around for the rest of the afternoon, not understanding half of what Nancy spoke to the scientists about.

The scientists were welcoming of Nancy and her questions. They were stuck in their work, and it seemed that even nefarious scientists really just wanted to solve problems and explore science. Something they and Nancy had in common.

The general gist seemed to be that anything from the Upside Down carried a strong magnetic field.

“So if we reversed the field, would that make the creatures susceptible?” Nancy asked the room of lab coats.

All the scientists looked unsure, muttering quietly.

“And what happens if we charge the vector field around the cracks in the gates with an electromagnet?” Nancy continued, mostly to herself now.

There was no response from the scientists. Jonathan looked in awe of Nancy, while Steve looked just as miffed as the scientists.

“Well,” Nancy said, voice full of sass. “should I just get on with figuring this out by myself, or will any of you wake up and decide to help?”

The scientists jumped into action, spreading out across the lab to tinker with their gadgets and screens.

“Nance, if you’re good here, we’ll get home and see the kids.” Steve gestured to the room.

“Sure,” she replied absently, busying herself with a tabletop of things Jonathan had seen in the science lab at school but couldn’t name.

Jonathan waved goodbye to Nancy, who wasn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention.

Steve rolled his eyes, hooked his arm through Jonathan’s, and together they walked out of the lab.

They moved uninterrupted through the facility. People nodded to them on their way past, but none smiled. Except the bubbly woman on the front desk, who still had her plastic smile in place. She stopped them as they passed and handed them each a plastic card with their faces printed on it.

“For when you come back.” She beamed.

The two of them walked out through the front doors and basked in the sunlight of a clear afternoon.

“Shit,” Steve cursed.

“What?”

“Hopper was our ride.”

Jonathan closed his eyes and sighed. “Wow, really thought that one through, didn’t we?”

Steve laughed. It was still at least an hour from sunset. “Would it be incredibly stupid to walk home through Mirkwood?” Steve gestured to the woods.

“Definitely,” Jonathan said and began walking towards the tree line. “But when have we ever done anything that _wasn’t_ stupid?”

The two trudged past the first trees, the only sound for a long time was the crunch of dead leaves under their feet.

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked.

Jonathan weighed his answer. “Better. I guess. I don’t think we can trust Brenner at all. But it does feel less impossible knowing that we’re working together.”

“Hmm. Nancy seems to be fitting right in with all the nerds. Hopefully she can teach them to have a conscience.”

Jonathan smiled. “When did she become so…”

“Assertive? Johnny she’s always been like that. It was half the reason I was so obsessed with her.” Steve watched as Jonathan’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh sure.” Jonathan waved it off.

“Johnny,” Steve hummed.

“What?” he said, too quickly.

“It wasn’t like that.” Steve stopped walking.

“Like what?” Jonathan snapped, a step ahead.

Steve grabbed him and spun him around so they were face to face. “It wasn’t like us.”

‘Us,” Jonathan breathed. This was it. They were finally going to talk about it. They’d been sharing a bed for almost a week. There had been affectionate moments. Stolen touches.

But if neither of them talked about it, it wasn’t an issue. It just simply was. Comfort when they both needed it most.

Steve ran his hand up Jonathan’s side, and around the back of his neck, where he rubbed gently.

Their denial had run its course. The bell had been rung. Their moment was now.

Jonathan closed his eyes and leaned into Steve’s hand, the pressure grounding him.

“What will people think?” Jonathan asked without opening his eyes.

Steve’s voice was steady, defiant, “I don’t care.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong, does it?”

“No.”

Jonathan felt Steve’s breath on his face. His eyes were still squeezed shut. If he opened them he might be crushed by the weight on his shoulders. If he opened them he might see Steve’s ridiculing sneer.

“What is this?” Jonathan whispered.

When Steve didn’t reply Jonathan pulled up the courage to open his eyes. Equally excited and terrified by what he might find in Steve’s eyes.

Four brown eyes locked, and Jonathan found searing hot fire.

“It’s perfect,” Steve murmured. He leaned an inch closer and their lips touched.

It was cold, this close to the sunset, but neither of the teenagers had ever felt heat like they did in that moment. The heat spread from their lips through their whole bodies. Jonathan marveled at the faint tingle he felt in his toes.

They broke away. Steve looked at Jonathan. The quiet man’s face was dark, hungry, and Steve would never want to forget the image.

Jonathan looked to Steve and saw a bright light in his wide eyes, a sunrise worth chasing for the rest of his life.

Steve leaned back. “Come on, there are half a dozen angry kids waiting for answers.”

And just like that, the world hadn’t ended. The sun would still rise tomorrow, and when it did, Jonathan would still have Steve, Steve would still have Jonathan.

Steve pulled Jonathan by the hand and together they walked home.


	8. A Senior Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update? So soon? 
> 
> You can thank my crippling unemployment. Weowww! *Leg kicks*
> 
> Action, romance, death.

“We’re all going to die!” Lucas’ voice broke and Max look disgusted.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she said with more confidence than Lucas had felt in his whole life.

The Dungeon Party, missing Eleven, sat around the Byers’ lounge. The TV was on mute, but playing The A-Team.

The five kids – Will, Mike, Max, Dustin, and Lucas had all listened patiently to what Steve and Jonathan recounted, but now they were starting to lose their cool.

Except Will, who seemed calm. “You guys, what do we have to lose by working with them?”

“You can’t be serious,” Mike said.

Will’s voice was quiet, “They helped me after I came back.”

“Yeah, and they also faked your death with a body filled with cotton!” Dustin was frantic.

“Not to mention, they tortured El. Tortured her,” Mike was shouting now.

Lucas chipped in, “They did kill a whole bunch of people.”

“The alternative is we fight against the department while the rest of the town is killed off one by one.” Jonathan’s words broke the building anger, and they all quieted down.

Mike crossed his arms. “And that means selling our souls to the Demogorgons does it?”

“Don’t you wanna go back to just being kids? When was the last time you rode your bikes home without looking over your shoulder waiting to be attacked by a monster? Sometimes you gotta do something tough, for the greater good.” Steve let his words sink in.

Max was the first one to talk, “So what now?”

“We tell the scientists what we know. El’s going to close the cracks. We all keep an eye on the town and tell them if anything weird happens. Other than that, there’s not much else we can do.” Jonathan shrugged.

“Cowards,” Mike said, getting up to leave.

“Come on, the lot of you,” Steve stood, “I’ll drive you all home. It’s dark and you don’t want to get caught after curfew.”

Steve left with the kids trailing behind him like ducklings.

Momma duck Steve was definitely something Jonathan was going to bring up later. “Want something to eat?” he asked Will. “I was thinking grilled cheese?”

“Sounds good.” Will joined him in the kitchen and sat on the counter. “We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?” Will tried to sound casual.

Jonathan aimed for a reassuring smile. The thought of Hopper brandishing a shotgun, of his mother wild with fury, and he thought of Steve with his spiked bat raised. “I’m sure we will be.”

“We can still help, you know.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you. But there’s no mystery this time, there’s nothing to solve.” Jonathan started frying the sandwiches.

“Steve’s a great guy.” Will said out of nowhere.

Jonathan tilted his head to the side. “I suppose he is.” He plated both the grilled cheeses but left the frying pan out for Steve to use when he got home.

Will put on the most innocent face he could muster. “So when do you think you and Steve will get married?”

Jonathan choked on his food and scrambled to drink some water. “What do you mean?” He tried to keep his composure, despite almost dying moments before.

“You and Steve,” Will repeated. “You think you’ll get married some day?”

“Christ Will.” Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not like– we’re not like-”

“You look at him like Mom used to look at Lonnie.” Will paused. Jonathan didn’t know what to say. “But he doesn’t look at you like Lonnie looked at mom. He stares at you, the same way Mike stares at Eleven when he thinks she isn’t looking.”

“Soppy,” Jonathan dodged.

Will shrugged.

Like work vomit, Jonathan said, “You really think he looks at me like that?”

Will rolled his eyes in answer. It wasn’t often that Jonathan wasn’t the one rolling his eyes. It made a nice change.

“And you’re alright with it? With him?” Jonathan fumbled with the tablecloth.

“He’s a cool dude.”

“Yeah. I suppose he is.” Jonathan watched headlights swing into the driveway. A few seconds later, Steve galloped through the front door.

Jonathan stared at him, trying to see how he looked at him. To see if Will was right. His Steve was too aware apparently, because he stopped moving.

“You alright?” There were those wide eyes again, constantly concerned.

Jonathan tried to pull his thoughts together. “Uh, yeah.”

Satisfied, Steve swanned into the kitchen and started making his dinner. “What were you guys talking about?”

Jonathan panicked, trying to think of a lie. Will started to answer and Jonathan thought he was safe.

“We were discussing whether or not you and Jonathan were going to get married.” Will grinned, smug, delighting in the betrayal clear on Jonathan’s face.

Without missing a beat, Steve replied, “Well I was thinking an Autumn wedding.”

“The trees will look great,” Will agreed.

“You two are a nightmare,” Jonathan struggled to keep the smile off his lips.

“Yes, but we’re _your_ nightmare.” From behind Jonathan, Steve rested his chin on the top of Jonathan’s head.

Joyce entered the house looking tired.

“Hey Mom.”

“Joyce! Just what we needed!” Steve yelled.

“Mom, how do you feel about Autumn?” Will giggled.

Joyce sat down at the table. “Perfect time for a wedding.”

Jonathan threw his hands up in defeat. “You’re all awful.”

“What color suit for Jonathan, Joyce? A steel grey?” All of Steve’s teeth were visible in his smile.

“I thought a navy would go nicely with his pale skin.” Joyce nodded solemnly.

 “And you?” Will asked Steve.

“Oh, that one’s easy.” They all tuned towards Jonathan, who had a deadpan expression. “He’ll be in white. It’s traditional for the bride.”

The kitchen exploded with the kind of laughter it hadn’t seen in years. The sort of laughter that lingered in the dark corners and echoed on sad days.

***

The next week was relatively uneventful. It got colder. The snow stuck to the ground. Christmas trees had started appearing in windows all across town. White tents had also popped up around town, sealing off areas for no apparent reason. To regular people they were roadworks or building sites. But to those in the know, they were the cracks to other dimensions.

Steve had taken to joining Jonathan at the theatre when he was working. Since Eric had gone missing, presumably eaten by Demogorgons, Steve thought it was safer to accompany Jonathan on his late nights.

If it had been anyone other than Steve, Jonathan would have felt suffocated with the constant company. But more often than not, Steve and Jonathan spent their time together in silence. The kind of silence that was never strained, and always welcome. Steve’s favorite development over the last week was the kissing. He stole quick kisses in the car before school, pulled Jonathan into deep embraces while they watched the sun set over the quarry, but by far the best part of his day was the long sessions of kissing in bed.

Nancy spent her afternoons at the Department of Energy. She sometimes tried to tell Jonathan and Steve what she was up to in their labs, but the words were too long, and the science was too hard to understand.

The kids, to their credit, had done their best to stay out of the way, their good behavior had Steve worried that they were plotting. He caught up with Dustin most lunch times at school, and Dustin was becoming somewhat a celebrity with all his senior friends. And after dancing with Nancy at the snowball, well, his newfound popularity was certainly going to his head, in the most endearing way possible.

Steve left cinema three and joined Jonathan at the counter. The theatre was pretty busy, people had finally started to stay out later, closer to the curfew. Steve was glad. Some nights the theatre was empty and an empty theatre was one of the creepiest places when abandoned, in Steve’s opinion. Not to mention he hated the feeling of the tacky velvet on the cinema seats. Steve endured it for Jonathan.

“Had enough of misunderstood skinny gingers in detention?” Jonathan asked.

Steve nodded. “I’d much rather spend my time trying to understand a skinny brunette.” Steve winked at him. They were far more comfortable since that kiss in the forest. They both knew where they stood now.

“If you keep cooking for me, I won’t _be_ a skinny brunette much longer.”

“That’s my plan,” Steve caught a piece of popcorn with his mouth. “Fatten you up so you can’t run away.”

Jonathan scoffed.

“Oi queer boy, what’s a guy gotta do to get a cola?”

Steve turned slowly to face the man. He was a head taller than Steve, and built solid. There were a few couples on their way out of cinema one, staring as they passed.

Steve wasn’t bothered. “To get a cola round here, you have to be a decent human, and you look fresh out of that.”

The man squared up to Steve.

“Steve…it’s alright.” Jonathan tried to calm him with a hand on his shoulder.

“It really isn’t.” Steve eyed the man. “I’d appreciate it if you were polite to my boyfriend.” Steve tensed his muscles, he wasn’t as wide as the man, but he was much more muscular.

Jonathan’s grip turned painful. Steve had never called him that before. ‘Boyfriend’ had a strange ring to it.

“I-Uh-” The man struggled to find words.

“ _Please_ would be a good start,” Steve scorned him.

“Cola…please.” The man looked very uncomfortable, and if it weren’t such an awful situation Jonathan might have laughed.

Jonathan grabbed the man a cola, took his money, and he went on his way back to cinema two.

Steve was still fuming.

“Boyfriend eh?” Jonathan smirked.

The anger left Steve’s face and he became sheepish. “Just sounded good.”

“Sounded good did it?”

“Yes,” Steve said matter-of-factly. Continuing, “Unless you’d rather not be my boyfriend, in which case, sharing a bed tonight might be a bit awkward.”

“I don’t know…Sleeping with my not-boyfriend sounds quite exciting.”

“Ass.” Steve pouted.

“Wait till the town hears the rich kid and the creepy kid are dating.”

“At least they’ll be talking about something other than the disappearances.”

Nancy strode through the doors to the theatre, letting a blustery wind blow in. She looked furious.

“Hey Nance.”

“What’s-”

“Boyfriends! You couldn’t have told me before you announced it to the town?”

“How-” Jonathan started.

“Never you mind how. Always the last to know!”

“Come as a surprise did it?” Steve laughed.

“Well. No. But still.”

“Instead of being mad,” Jonathan said, smiling, “why don’t you bore us with whatever you just finished doing with the evil scientists.”

“Funny you should ask. We managed to stop the expansion of the cracks by generating a magnetic field around them. It should hold until Eleven can seal them.”

“A good day’s work then,” Jonathan said.

Steve hopped up onto the counter. “Any smiles from the scientists?”

“Not one. I’m starting to wonder if they’re lips are glued shut to prevent them from spilling secrets.”

“Maybe it’s just because they have to hang out with you all day.” Steve winced as Nancy punched him in the arm.

“I do have some bad news though,” she said.

“The book?” Jonathan asked.

“The book.” Nancy confirmed with a nod.

Jonathan rustled around his satchel and pulled out a small notebook. He flipped through the first few pages and settled on a half empty page with a neat list running down the left-hand side.

“Carol,” Nancy said softly. “You know, Tommy’s girl. I just ran into Tina at the bus stop and she said it’s been two days since Carol’s been home. Her parents think she’s just run off with a boy again.”

“That’s four this week.” Jonathan read down the list. All high schoolers.

“Should we tell anyone?” Steve asked.

Nancy shook her head. “Nothing we can do. Eleven’s tackling the cracks one by one, but they’re exhausting her. And there are dozens left.”

“I know, I know. I just hate not doing anything.” Steve let out an exasperated yell. “I feel useless.”

“Cheer up. It’s the senior’s end of year party tonight. And you’re both coming.”

“Do we have to?” Jonathan groaned.

“Well I’m certainly not going alone. And both of you have a duty to your damsel.”

Steve scoffed. “Damsel you reckon?”

“Never a truer word spoke,” Jonathan said, hiding his smile behind his book.

“Idiots. Pick me up at seven.” She turned on her heel and left.

Steve watched her leave, bemused. “Ever feel like we married Nancy but weren’t invited to the ceremony?”

“All. The. Time.”

“Well just so you know, I’m only sharing my bed with one dainty brunette, not two.” Steve was getting used to the light punches.

***

Steve pumped his Farrah Fawcett hairspray three times and ran it through his hair. He buttoned up his shirt and dabbed on some of Jonathan’s aftershave. He’d never worn it before, but he quite liked the idea of smelling like Jonathan.

“Is that mine?” Jonathan’s voice was husky. Steve turned to see him learning against the doorway in a tight shirt and jeans.

“When did you get so sexy?” Steve growled.

Jonathan moved towards him. “When did you start stealing my things?”

“I’ve always stolen your things.” Steve walked to meet him. “Your pajamas. Your food. Your heart.”

Their lips met and Steve moaned.

“Nancy will kick our asses if we’re late.” Jonathan’s head was pressed against Steve’s.

“I have other plans for our asses…” Steve’s eyes lit up.

There was a cough at the door and both teenagers turned around to see Joyce, eyebrow raised. “Will! Bring me Jonathan’s camera from the lounge would you,” she called down the hallway. “Your plans will have to wait hmm?” She smirked.

“Mom!” Jonathan blushed, but Steve had the cheek to look smug.

Will shuffled up and handed his mother the camera, she framed up the shot.

Steve slipped his hand around Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together.

Joyce clicked the camera.

Steve twisted to look at Jonathan.

Joyce clicked the camera.

Jonathan turned to look at Steve.

Joyce clicked the camera.

Steve closed his eyes and kissed Jonathan lightly.

Neither heard the camera click.

***

Nancy was waiting impatiently on the staircase in her house. She’d opted for a plain skirt and blouse, with bright red lipstick.

The doorbell rang and before Nancy could answer it, her father opened the door.

“Hello Mr. Wheeler.”

“Good evening Mr. Wheeler.”

Both Jonathan and Steve smiled at Nancy’s father.

Ted Wheeler was a man without much of a personality, a nice enough man, sure. But had the emotional capacity of warm lettuce.

“Boys.” He nodded. “Both taking Nancy to the party are you?”

Steve saluted. “Yes sir.”

Mr. Wheeler eyed them suspiciously. “I don’t need to warn either of you off, do I?”

Mike and Mrs. Wheeler laughed from the lounge, both fully aware that neither Steve nor Jonathan had any interest in anything other than Nancy’s friendship.

“No sir,” Jonathan said.

“Not at all,” Steve saluted again.

“Dad, could your try for one night, not to ruin my life. Just one.” Nancy swept past them all and out into the car.

Steve and Jonathan aimed waves over their shoulders and followed.

They were on the way to the school with the heater on full blast when Steve said, “Your mom’s about to have a pretty funny conversation with your dad.”

They laughed. “Doubt it,” Nancy said. “She could scream in his face that you two were flaming homosexuals and I don’t think he’d bat an eyelid.”

The school car park was full. Jonathan stopped hid Ford close to the gym and they got out. Dozens of people were streaming into the gym. This was one of the rare occasions that the school allowed the seniors to let loose.

It was up to the senior class to organize the party, the staff didn’t ask questions, and they didn’t attend. They’d earned this one night of trust in all their years at the school.

Of course, people brought booze.

And yes, there was a high chance someone would hook up in an empty classroom.

But they were almost finished their schooling, it was only fair that they get to have a good time while they were still young.

The three of them walked into the gym together, Nancy tucked between the two guys.

People gave them strange looks, but people had been doing that for months. Someone was playing pop songs loudly, and there was a long line of tables covered with food and drink. That was about all the effort that had gone into the night. Decoration wasn’t a priority.

Music, drinks, and stupidity was more their speed.

The seniors lounged around the huge hall. The bleachers were full with drunk guys, laughing and catcalling. Most of the girls formed a line on the other side of the hall, watching the guys, and picking off strays to dance with. Nancy would bet that the toilets were all occupied with vomiting teenagers as well.

“Look, it’s Tina and Vicki,” Nancy whispered.

Tina had puffy eyes and a lost look on her face. Vicki was rubbing her back, checking her watch and gazing longingly at the punch table.

A guy Jonathan didn’t recognize sat next to Vicki, who gave him and his drink a scathing look. “Who’s the guy?”

“Terry. Dating Vicki,” Steve said.

Nancy ogled him. “You’re not turning into one of those gossipy homosexuals are you?”

Jonathan tutted. “Jesus Nance, can you not call us that please? It makes it sound like we have a disease.”

“You don’t think you caught it from me do you, Johnny?” Steve’s poker face was perfect and Nancy laughed into her drink.

Someone tapped on the microphone and the boom reverberated through the gym, silencing conversations and pulling everyone’s attention to the bleachers.

Tommy was about halfway up the stands. “Good evening boys and girls!” His voice bounced off the walls.

“Moron.”

“Loser.”

“Dickhead.” Both boys turned to Nancy, eyes wide. “What?” she said. “He is.”

“You all know why we’re here,” Tommy continued. “Senior year’s almost over and it’s time we partied!” The half-drunk crowd roared.

“Remember: don’t break anything, and if you do, cover it up so they don’t find it until we’ve all graduated.” The crowd laughed, and Tommy carried on talking.

Steve leaned in to Jonathan’s ear. “People don’t really think he’s funny, do they?”

“I never saw it.”

“He thinks he’s so popular,” Steve spat.

“You sound jealous,” there was an amused lilt in Jonathan’s voice.

“Of him? Pfft. How could I be jealous of him, when I have you?”

The small smile on Jonathan’s lips was enough for Steve to lose control and kiss the edge of Jonathan’s mouth.

“Well if it isn’t Steve Harrington,” Tommy’s words left a dead silence in the gym.

All eyes were on the three of them.

Jonathan’s face shot to the ground. Steve stared at Tommy, disgusted. And Nancy scanned the crowd, glaring at anyone who made eye contact with her.

“You know it should have been you up here, Harrington,” Tommy slurred.

“Come on,” Jonathan said. “Let’s go.”

Tommy’s raised his voice, which screeched through the sound system, “But you threw it away and shacked up with a creep. It’s bad enough you’re a damn queer, but Byers. Really?”

Most people sniggered. Some looked uncomfortable. Nancy was livid.

“Piss off, Tommy, you jacked up dick!” she yelled across the gym.

“Ooh, spicy.” He laughed her off. “Now Steve, I’ve been wondering - who gives it, and who takes it? Because Tina put money on Byers taking, but you’ve always been a bit of a bitch.”

Nancy moved quicker than Jonathan could see, she picked up a butter knife from the table and hurled it through the air. She’d known it wouldn’t cut him, but Nancy’s aim never failed.

The handle of the knife struck Tommy squarely in the forehead and he fell from the bench, landing with a bang.

Laughter erupted from almost everyone. Even the friends Tommy surrounded himself with here turning red with it.

Steve, Jonathan and Nancy did not laugh. Nothing involving Tommy would ever be funny to them. Steve found Jonathan’s hand and gripped it. “Let’s get out of here.”

The laughter was dying and people watched the three of them walk towards the double doors. And as Nancy was about to push them open, she froze. Her face turned from staunch to raw fear in less than a second.

It flickered in the corner of Jonathan’s eye. Steve felt a prickle raise from his lower back to his neck.

Something that was not quite a Demogorgon was slinking across the pavement outside. Its face was a patchwork of monster and human. Bits of flesh hung off its chin, and it was covered in black scales.

“Jesus, what is that?” Steve breathed.

Jonathan pulled at him. “We need to get out of here.”

“We can’t just leave everyone here to be slaughtered.” Steve resisted.

“Can’t we?” Nancy asked. “They wouldn’t help us. Wouldn’t lift a finger.”

Jonathan knew after that first shriek they were in trouble, a guy from his calculus class had peered out the window and cried out, it drew the rest of the hall’s attention. There was no easy exit now.

They knew the thing was here. And the thing knew they were inside. This was only ending one way.

Jonathan slipped his handgun out of his belt. “Don’t suppose either of you brought your…”

Steve withdrew his gun from a shoulder holster and Nancy pulled hers from high up on the inside of her left leg.

“Good to see we’re not all paranoid then,” Jonathan muttered. The three of them flipped off their safety switches.

The crowd of seniors had lost all control and people were scrambling to the back of the hall towards the fire exit screaming. Some had seen the thing, the rest were just following suit, afraid.

“Why isn’t it coming inside?” Steve’s blood pounded in his ears. The beast was skulking just outside the door, hesitating. Each time someone screamed the beast’s ears flicked and it snapped.

“It’s waiting for something,” Jonathan looked over his shoulder at the seniors, their screaming had died down and was replaced with yells.

“The door’s locked!” they shouted. “Someone’s blocked it from the other side!”

“Trapped,” Nancy said, not taking her eyes off the beast.

“Steve, go sort out the fire exit, get as many people out as you can. Keep them calm.” Jonathan gestured behind them.

Steve hesitated.

“We’ve got this,” Nancy assured him. “Go, be charming, or they’ll all die.”

Steve huffed. “No pressure then.” He turned away and sprinted through the gym.

He leapt up the bleachers and found Tommy’s discarded microphone. “Everyone! Shut up!” His voice was magnified through the speakers and the room stilled.

“Who put you in charge?” one of the football players yelled.

Steve dropped the microphone; more noise wouldn’t help. “First, I’ve killed these things before. Second, I have a gun and you don’t. Third, I’m not the one who’s about to piss myself scared, so cut your shit, Mason.”

“What should we do?” a girl with a shrill voice from his English class asked.

“Get as far back to the wall as possible. Stay quiet. It should get bored and leave soon.”  Steve reached the back wall and flicked off the fluorescent lights that lined the roof.

“ _Should?_ ” the girl screeched.

In truth Steve didn’t know if they’d leave. But the other students were so loud that at least having them shut up would help him think.

But these people needed reassurance. He threw on his best Harrington sneer. “When have I ever been wrong?”

He tried the fire exit. They’d been right, something was blocking it from the other side.

Steve returned to Jonathan, slipping through the sea of people, stark white and silent, a few of them had pocket torches attached to their keys, which they’d switched on, sending the occasional flare of yellow light towards the ceiling.

It was eerie, the quiet. All the senior’s eyes were full of fear and desperation.

That was the difference between the rest of the seniors and himself, Jonathan and Nancy. The three of them knew there was no time for fear in moments like these. They knew death, intimately, and they still put themselves in the firing line rather than run.

“Guys…” Nancy warned.

Another deformed beast joined the first and the two of them prowled together, grunting.

“What are they waiting for?” Nancy grumbled.

The orange lamps from outside were brighter now the lights in the gym were out, their glow pooled in large circles. They watched as the beasts skulked in and out of the light. When they were out of it, they couldn’t see them at all, their scales blended perfectly into the darkness. But when they did enter the orange pools, their eyes were full of their reflected light, and their scales glistened.

And then they were gone, into the darkness from which they didn’t return.

“Torch,” Steve whispered loudly to the seniors behind them. “I need a torch.”

There was a jangle and a set of keys with a torch attached slid across the polished gym floor. Steve stooped, grabbed it, and pressed the torch against the window, sweeping its beam across the pavement outside.

The monsters were gone from view.

The temperature dropped dramatically and there was a sickening howl from above.

Steve turned just in time to watch Jonathan’s eyes roll back as he dropped to the floor.

***

The darkness shifted around Jonathan, then rushed passed him.

He was back in the Upside Down and things were worse than ever. The air was thick with black spores and the veins were pulsating with thick ooze.

Jonathan didn’t waste any time. Spurred on by an unknown force, he tore down the hallway. The air was so cold he could feel his skin icing over and his blood freezing in his heart.

The door to room twelve disintegrated in front of Jonathan and he saw the man in the bed again, this time he was sat bolt upright.

His scream threw Jonathan back out of the Upside Down.

***

“Johnny. Johnny it’s okay.” Steve gripped both of his shoulders, shaking them.

Jonathan’s eyes rolled back down and focused.

“Steve,” the relief was clear in his voice, and in the tears that filled his eyes.

Jonathan dragged him into a hug.

“Johnny, it’s alright, we’re fine.”

“Steve,” he panted. “Steve, someone’s about to die.” He couldn’t rationalize it, but he knew it was true.

Nancy cracked her neck. “Not on our watch Jonathan Byers, now get up, aim your gun, and kill these bastards.”

Jonathan nodded, standing. It was hard to not be spurred on when Nancy was on one.

Nancy was holding the torch to the window, pointing it at the two returned monsters. They were rabid now, moving fast, snapping their hooked jaws. Each sharp tooth was a reflected point in the torch light.

All three of their guns were aimed at the monsters, moving along with their targets. They were purely focused on the scene in front of them, so when someone behind them screamed, they were disoriented.

The fire exit at the back of the gym blasted open and a third beast galloped in on all four, Jonathan turned just in time to see it lash out at anything within reach. Bodies started falling and the crowd scattered.

“Shit,” Steve spat.

If that wasn’t enough, the two beasts out front started throwing themselves at the double doors.

“You two go, I’ll handle these,” Nancy yelled over the banging.

Steve and Jonathan didn’t wait to be told twice, they ran for the middle of the hall. Shafts of torchlight swinging wildling, sometimes showing their way, sometimes blinding them.

“Plan?” Steve asked as they skidded to a halt near the beasts, which was now eyeing up victims.

“Too close to shoot, we might hit someone.” Jonathan tucked away his gun in his belt.

Steve groaned. “Wish I had my baseball bat.”

Jonathan went to the drinks table, flipped it, and snapped a leg off. It was long, sharp, and jagged. Perfect for killing a beast, he threw it to Steve who snatched it from the air.

“I’ll distract it,” Jonathan said swiping the tablecloth and circling the beast so it was between himself and Steve. “Watch out for the teeth.”

Jonathan lined up the tablecloth and threw it high. As it fell he pounced, bringing the cloth down over the beast and holding on for dear life. If Jonathan had ever had the displeasure of being on a mechanical bull, he’d have thought it very similar to straddling a bucking monster.

Steve swung the table leg with all his strength and hit the creature right in the head. It went limp and together the beast and Jonathan fell to the floor in a tangle.

Steve yelled to the people surrounding them. “Tie it up and watch it.” He passed his bat to the Mason, the football guy. “If it wakes up, smash it again, but don’t kill it.”

Jonathan struggled out from underneath the monster and clambered to his feet. They didn’t hang around, and they were skidding to a halt next to Nancy just in time.

The window in the double doors had cracked and looked ready to shatter.

Nancy gave them the side-eye. “Took your sweet time.”

“Shall we?” Steve asked, leveling his gun.

All three of them fired in quick succession.

***

By the time the chief arrived the blood seeping out of the creatures was cold, and Nancy had covered them with another tablecloth.

“Hop,” Nancy said the moment he got out of his truck. “You have to call Brenner, there’s two dead under there.” She pointed to the covered humps outside the doors. “But there’s one still inside, in the janitor’s cupboard. It’s alive, knocked out.”

“Is everyone alright?” he asked, taking long strides towards the gym.

“No,” Nancy’s voice was so soft Hopper stopped and turned. “It slashed some people up real bad…a couple of them are okay. But some are…”

“Dead,” Jonathan finished, wrapping his arm around Nancy.

“Shit.” He dropped his cigarette and stamped on it. “I know you’ve had a helluva night, we’ll get you home soon, promise.” Hopper snapped his fingers at a deputy. “Count everyone up, ask around and see if anyone’s gone missing.”

A dozen white vans screeched into the school parking lot. “Would you look at that, I didn’t even need to call him. Convenient timing.” Dr. Brenner climbed out of the first van and headed over to Hopper, behind him his men filed out and made their way towards the gym.

“How bad?” Brenner asked, ignoring Jonathan and Nancy.

Hopper lit another cigarette. “Bad. A couple dead.”

The deputy returned. “Chief, there’s half a dozen kids missing. But one guy said three of them are…you know…the bodies in the gym.”

The bags under Hopper’s eyes were almost black, and Jonathan was surprised to see matching bruises under Dr. Brenner’s. It seemed sleep was a gift none of them were getting this Christmas.

“Who?” Hopper asked the deputy.

The deputy, who had been staring at the covered bodies jumped. “What?”

“Names.”

The deputy fumbled with his notebook. “I’ve got a… Vicki Dresher. Tina Oakly. Terry Newberry. Samantha Turner. Nicole Winton. And…” The circle held their breath. “Tommy Crispin.”

Jonathan felt sick, Steve’s face had lost all of its color, and Nancy’s face remained steely.

“Deputy, take these three home.” Hopper laid a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “We’ll come and get your car tomorrow, tell Joyce I’ll be over once I’m finished here.”

The three followed the deputy into the police cruiser and were silent the whole way home.

The officer took them straight to Jonathan’s house. They got inside and Steve went to the bathroom to wash off the slime the creature had slobbered on his face. Nancy went to telephone her mother to let her know she wouldn’t be home. And Jonathan was swept into a warm hug from his mom.

She couldn’t have known what had happened, but one look at her son’s face and she was embracing him.

The night stretched on. Will and Eleven were asleep and didn’t stir. The four of them sat quietly for a couple of hours. They were exhausted but their minds wouldn’t let them sleep.

Joyce made cocoa regularly and didn’t press any of them information, which they were grateful for.

Hopper knocked on the door just after two in the morning. He gave Joyce a chaste kiss on the cheek and hung up his hat on the back of the door.

“It’s not looking good.” Hopper rubbed his face, pulling at the skin around his eyes. “How’s Eleven?” he asked Joyce.

She tried for a smile. “Fine, you know how the pair of them are, happy to talk each other to death.”

Hopper nodded. “I appreciate you, Joyce.” He paused, sighing loudly. “Maybe it’s time we leave. Move someplace safe.”

Steve’s eyes moved to Jonathan, he’d follow him anywhere, even if it meant leaving the town defenseless.

“No.” It was Joyce who answered him. “Firstly, we owe the town our help. It wouldn’t be fair to leave. Secondly, and correct me if I’m wrong Nancy, but unless this ends soon, it will spread.”

Nancy nodded.

“There.” Joyce was satisfied she’d made her point. “We’d end up running for the rest of our lives, and I don’t know about you Jim Hopper, but I don’t run from anything.”

In that moment, Steve understood that Jonathan was Joyce’s son, not that piece of shit Lonnie’s. Joyce had been the mother, father, and friend to both of her kids. It was comforting to know she was ready to fight, but the prospect of her rage ever being directed at him was terrifying. He’d have to treat Jonathan good, if only so Joyce didn’t kill him in his sleep.

Hopper blew out another huff. “You’re right Joyce. Always right.”

Joyce patted the chief’s shoulder. “I know, now off you go, I bet you have a ton of paperwork to do.” Joyce walked him to the door. “Come back for dinner tomorrow, and bring El.”

Hopper took his hat, kissed Joyce once more, and left.

Joyce rounded on the three teenagers. “Bedtime, you all look awful.”

Jonathan stood up. “You can have my bed Nance. Me and Steve will sleep on the couch.”

Nancy opened her mouth to argue, but her droopy eyes blinked in defeat, she shuffled down the hallway.

Steve and Jonathan changed, grabbed some extra blankets, and returned to the lounge.

The fire was burning out so Steve put a few more pieces of wood onto the embers.

They each took a couch, bundled themselves in blankets and settled. The glow of the fire was bright enough for Jonathan to see Steve across the room.

Steve was staring at him, eyes glinting with the firelight.

“I can’t-” Jonathan began.

“Neither.”

They got up from their couches and threw the blankets down on the floor in front of the fire. They moved clumsily until they were buried under the blankets in each other’s arms.

It was still cold, people were still dead, but it was bearable while they were together. They didn’t talk, they didn’t need to. Words were cheap. Both of them knew there was no real safety any more. Hopper couldn’t protect them. The Department of Energy couldn’t protect them.

The fire was ash by the time they both drifted off to sleep, still clinging to each other.


	9. The Town

_The town of Hawkins was established and its residents thrived._

_Crops were full. Rivers ran heavy with fish. It rained just enough to keep the fields green, but not enough to drown the seeds._

_Soon after arriving, the townsfolk discovered strange things about their new home. None of them could quite shake the feeling that they were being watched by someone. Someone just out of sight. The Blacksmith complained of his metals behaving strangely, although who knew what that meant. The doctor reported no incidents of plague, in fact, he could find no illness of any sort._

_Bishop wasn’t concerned with the trivialities of the residents. He spent every waking moment mapping the town, filling out charts and designs._

_Bishop became insatiable. He explored every inch of Hawkins. The townsfolk regularly saw him traipsing through the woods with a shovel early in the morning._

_People stopped talking when he appeared, conversations abruptly silenced, a frosty air developed._

_It wasn’t uncommon to hear him whispering to himself. Nonsense that nobody could translate._

_Wild talk. About fires, and beasts, and gates._


	10. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally ladies and gentle-Demogorgons, please enjoy the cliffhanger of the season! 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos, it means a lot, you know.

The town had no idea of the truth that writhed underneath Hawkins’ surface. And Jonathan was starting to understand why. When confronted with something so terrifying, so horrific that a person couldn’t bear to imagine a world in which it existed, people would do anything within their power to ignore it.

A teenager sees her best friend slaughtered by a scaly monster but insists it moved so fast it could have been a coyote.

A police deputy peeks under a tablecloth and looks into a mouth full of hundreds of teeth, blinks, blames it on the whiskey, and moves on.

A neighbor watches two figures dragging bodies into a van, listens as screams come up from the nearby school, looks into the white eyes of something kidnapping teenagers, but it’s so dark, that who knows what they saw?

The illusion of safety is something people will do anything to maintain.

Nancy left early, she had to go home on her way to the facility. She was going to help the lab to dissect the dead beasts, and to examine the live one. Joyce drove her home on her way to work, dropping off Will at the Wheeler’s house too.

No one was leaving the house alone now. No one was wandering around town. They traveled in packs, the only way to stay safe.

Joyce had put everyone on house arrest unless they left with her. Steve and Jonathan didn’t mind, staying at home together sounded ideal.

The school was closed. They didn’t say how long for, only that it was still a crime scene. Jonathan was willing to bet half of the staff refused to show up, and many parents, like Joyce, didn’t want their kids leaving the house until… they didn’t really know what they were waiting for. Until the disappearances stopped? Until the ‘wild coyotes’ were put down?

Jonathan had just called in sick to the theatre when the phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered, expecting more bad news.

“Hello, is Steven there?” It was a woman, with a clear voice lacking any warmth. “It’s his mother.”

Jonathan faltered. She was going to make Steve return home. He couldn’t bear not to wake up in his arms. Steve was essential to Jonathan’s survival and they both knew It. Even knowing that without Steve he would suffer, there was no question about what he should do.

“Steve,” his voice cracked. Steve’s head popped up over the couch, goofy smile in place. “It’s your mom.”

The goofy smile was gone.

Steve walked over to the phone, took it, and pinned Jonathan still. They both looked nervous.

“Mom?”

“Steven.” Jonathan could hear the woman clearly. “Where have you been? The house looks filthy, the neighbors haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been!”

Steve’s voice was quiet, “Staying at a friend’s.”

“Come home.” She paused. “This instant.”

Jonathan held his breath.

“Okay,” Steve mumbled.

Jonathan’s heart felt cold. Like he was back in the Upside Down. Like he was stuck in another dimension.

Steve continued in a much clearer voice, “But only so I can get the rest of my stuff. Then I’m leaving for good.”

Jonathan could almost feel the anger coming through the phone. “I don’t think so.”

“Fight me.” Steve hung up the phone.

Jonathan’s blood was rushing though his body, picking up and electric charge and making him tingle. ‘You mean it?” he asked, not daring to hope. Teenagers said angsty things all the time.

“If you’ll have me.”

Instead of answering, Jonathan led them into a deep kiss that left them both with bruised lips.

“Your mom will be okay with it?”

Jonathan nodded.

“I’ll go to the bank and pull out all my money before they cut me off. I’ll get a job, start helping with the bills.” Steve was thinking fast and hard, planning out his new life.

“You sure this is what you want? They’re your family.” Jonathan thought he would give Steve one last way out.

“Johnny,” Steve maneuvered Jonathan’s shoulders roughly so they were face to face. “You’re my family now.”

They kissed again, this time slower, neater.

“I’ll go get my things, and I’ll grab the boys on my way home.” Steve was practically humming. Jonathan had never seen him this energetic and bouncy. This was the start of a new chapter for them.

Sure, Steve had been staying at their house, but now he was moving in. For good.

Steve picked Jonathan up, despite the other man’s protests, and whirled him around the kitchen laughing. Eventually Jonathan stopped resisting and started giggling.

“Go,” Jonathan said breathlessly, “and come back to me.”

Steve’s eyes darkened with hunger, it made Jonathan ache.

“Promise,” Steve growled.

***

Steve knocked on the front door of his parent’s house. He could have used his key, but it felt wrong, it felt like then it would have been his home too. And this house had long since stopped being anything more than somewhere to sleep.

He waited to hear the sound on his mother’s footsteps down the stairs, drew himself up, and took a deep breath.

His mother opened the door with a steely expression on her face. “Come in then,” her tone was clipped.

Steve followed her to the parlor where his father was smoking a cigar. “Your mother said you were leaving.”

“Yes.”

“You are, are you?” On his father’s face Steve saw his own arrogant smirk reflected back at him. “Where do you think you’ll go?”

Steve knew he was done with the people that called themselves his parents, what more damage could he cause? “I’m moving in with my boyfriend.”

There was a deadly silence. His parents were staring at him with slack jaws and wide eyes. His father started spluttering nonsense and his mother fell into a chair.

“No son of mine,” his father spat, regaining himself as his shock was replaced with disgust.

“No, I don’t suppose I ever was.” Steve was calm, this had been a long time coming.

“We did our best!” his mother gasped. “We did our best to raise you right.”

“You’ve spent more time on planes that you have with me, so don’t give me that bullshit. You vanish for weeks on end, you keep vicious secrets. You didn’t raise me, I raised myself.”

Steve’s father jumped to his feet. “Don’t you dare speak to your mother that way.” He raised his hand towards Steve, but Steve was faster, grabbing his father’s wrist and twisting it away.

His father yelled out, and as Steve’s fist collided with his face, he let out a whimper.

Steve bolted upstairs, leaving his mother to tend to his father. He threw some clothes in a bag, grabbed anything he thought he might need, and clambered down the stairs, boosted by adrenalin.

His parents were watching him from the parlor, his father cradling his wrist in his other hand, his mother standing behind him, tall and resolute.

“Once you walk out that door, there’s no coming back,” his mother said.

Steve’s hand stilled on the doorknob.

“If you leave you’re no longer our son. We won’t protect you,” his father said.

“Protect me?” Steve scoffed, fire rising in him. “When have you ever protected me?”

“Leave him. We’re done here.” His mother’s lips pursed into a thin line.

But his father didn’t stop. “You and your band of misfits are getting in the way again. And this time the lot of you will get yourselves killed.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s way? What do you know?” For the first time in his life Steve wondered if he truly knew his parents. He’d known they had secrets, but he’d thought that meant affairs, fraud, nothing involving his other life. Nothing involving anything actually important.

“Who do you work for?” he asked, not expecting an answer, but asking anyway.

Both his parents were silent. They stared at him hard, not moving.

“Fine. I don’t need you, and I don’t need your protection.” Steve pulled the fingers and slammed the door on his way out.

***

Jonathan pottered around the empty house, doing some laundry, getting dinner ready.

The house was going to be full of people tonight, planning, plotting. It would have been exciting if it weren’t so terrifying.

Two headlights swept in through the windows and Jonathan checked himself in the mirror on his way to the door.

Before he could knock, Jonathan pulled the door open.

Instead of Steve, Jonathan was looking at Dr. Brenner.

“What’s happened?” Jonathan’s mind was reeling with possibilities.

Brenner smiled. “Sorry about this.”

Jonathan didn’t have time to run, he felt a sharp pain in his neck and he blacked out.


	11. Fractured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where is Jonathan, what is Steve going to do, but most importantly, how badass will Nancy get?
> 
> These questions keep me awake at night too, my darling readers.

__Steve made his way around town, two sides of his mind battling furiously.

On one hand he was confused and desperately curious about what his father had said. His parents knew more than they let on, that was for sure. But Steve needed to know what.

The other half of Steve was fizzing. He’d shucked off his parents, he’d told them he was gay, he was going home to Jonathan Byers.

He cruised by Dustin’s place, picking him up, along with Lucas and Max.

“Hey Steve,” Max said, getting into the car. “I know you guys aren’t best friends, but have you seen Billy around town?”

Steve restrained a physical reaction. He thought Max was great, but he hated Billy. Hated what Billy represented, everything Steve himself used to be. “Sorry kid, haven’t. With any luck, he won’t come back.”

“Amen to that,” Max agreed.

Joyce was collecting Nancy and Mike with Will on her way home from work, and then Hopper would bring Eleven.

On his way back to the house Steve pulled over next to the graveyard. The kids didn’t say a word as they watched Steve hop out, run to a particularly clean grave, and swipe a bunch of flowers from the ground.

“He’s not-”

“He wouldn’t-”

“He did.”

By the time Steve arrived at the Byers’ house everyone else had already turned up, he clutched the dirt-covered flowers behind his back.

Joyce was making coffee with Hopper in the kitchen, Mike was stood next to Eleven, yelling at the appearance of Dustin, Nancy was speaking to Eleven, the pair of them deep in conversation.

Those two chicks could take on the world, Steve thought, smiling. He scanned the room for those familiar soft brown eyes but didn’t find them.

“Where’s Johnny?” he asked the room at large.

Joyce looked up. “He’s with you. Isn’t he?”

“No, I left him-” The flowers fell to the floor and Steve was dashing through the house. Checking the bathroom, bedroom, even the hot-water closet.

He felt the absence in the pit of his stomach, but he wouldn’t let the thought pass his mind.

“I’m sure he’s just gone to the store,” Joyce didn’t sound like she believed herself.

Dustin peered through the netting on the front window. “His car’s still here.”

People’s faces dropped one by one.

“He can’t be- He’s not-” Steve shook his head, trying to squash the panic rising in his throat. He wanted to collapse, to fall down, to cry. But he couldn’t, not yet.

“I’m on it,” Hopper’s voice sounded distant. Steve watched him grab his hat from the back of the door.

“I’m coming,” Steve said, and his voice sounded distant too.

Hopper didn’t argue, and the last image Steve had of the room before he went to search the dark night, was eight stark white faces staring back at him.

The blue and red lights of Hopper’s truck danced across the houses of Hawkins. They drove slow, eyes sharp but frantic. They did a loop of the main street, past the high school, around the edge of Mirkwood.

Hopper stopped at the station, when he returned to Steve and the truck, four deputies followed, got into their cars, and took to the streets.

Steve and Hopper checked out all the white tents around town, asked anyone at the sites if they’d seen anything. They hadn’t.

A few hours into the search Steve started to get desperate, and when one of the deputy’s radioed Hopper and asked if they should be checking rivers or places bodies were likely to turn up, Steve lost it, letting out a roar.

Jonathan wasn’t out on the streets. He wouldn’t have left by choice.

“Take me home,’ Steve didn’t have the energy to be polite.

Hopper obeyed, dropping him off, then resuming his search of the town.

Jonathan walked through the door to the same scene he’d left, eight white faces reflecting back his fear. He ignored them all, walked to Jonathan’s room, closed the door and crawled into bed.

He felt his face become wet with tears. Crying was useless, he knew that, but it didn’t stop the flow. It was pointless driving through town searching for Jonathan, but lying in bed crying was even more pointless. At least out there he’d been moving, focused on the search.

Here in bed he was left alone with his darkest thoughts to take hold, he stopped resisting and let the thoughts drag him under. What if Jonathan had been killed by a Demogorgon mutt? What if in a stupid brave moment, he’d gone to one of the cracks in the dimension? Steve couldn’t think of why Jonathan might do that, but then again, he struggled to get inside Jonathan’s head at the best of times.

But the real darkness that crept in to Steve’s mind was that Jonathan had left of his own free will. That maybe the thought of Steve moving in for good scared him. That things had moved too fast and Jonathan was having second thoughts.

Someone touched his arm and he was too dull to react fast, he pulled the blanket back away from his face.

Eleven was stood over him. “I can find him. Find Jonathan.”

“You can?” A spark of hope flared in Steve’s chest.

She nodded.

“What do you need?”

“Water.”

They filled the bath to the brim, and Eleven was stood in the warm water when Joyce came into the bathroom. Steve told her what they were doing and the kids swarmed in behind her in the hallway.

Joyce bit her fingernails. “Are you sure about this, El?”

Eleven nodded and without warning submerged herself in the tub. A wave of water flooded over the edge and soaked the bathroom floor.

The water settled.

Nothing happened for a long moment.

The water started to bubble, not with heat, but with a reaction of some sort.

Eleven erupted from the water. She gasped for air and clawed at her neck.

She mumbled too quietly for Steve to hear, but as he leaned closer he heard her repeating the same word over and over. It would echo in his dreams and haunt his waking hours. He’d never forget the finality in it.

“Gone…gone…gone.”

***

Jonathan knew something was wrong but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

His eyes wouldn’t open, but that didn’t matter much. He had to do something. Something important. But what?

He’d been cooking.

Cooking spaghetti. Yes.

He was draining the pasta when a car pulled up.

A car.

Who was in the car? Someone he’d been expecting? No. There was no warning.

Warning. He had to warn someone.

Warn who?

Someone with brown eyes. Himself?

Slicked back hair. Not himself.

Woodsy smell.

Steve.

Jonathan opened his eyes. His panic spiked. A blank clinical suite surrounded him. Leather straps held his arms in place, his legs too. He had to warn Steve.

He didn’t scream, he didn’t struggle. It wouldn’t get him anywhere; these people didn’t make mistakes. The man who had brought him here didn’t make mistakes. The man. The doctor. Brenner.

The fuzzy haze was slowly lifting from Jonathan’s vison and mind.

The door squeaked open and a young scientist entered. His face was familiar to Jonathan, but no name sprang to mind.

“Hello again Jonathan! It’s me, Dr. James. You remember me, don’t you?”

Jonathan didn’t respond, he wasn’t even sure he was able. But he followed the doctor’s movements closely.

“How’re you feeling? The sedative should be almost completely out of your system by now.”

It took Jonathan a few goes before he could form the words without croaking. “Why am I here?”

The doctor ignored him. “We want you to be in tip top shape, so let me know if you’re in any pain.” Dr. James busied himself around Jonathan’s bed, touching buttons and scratching things down on his clipboard.  “You seem like you’re in good condition.”

“I’m not a baseball card,” Jonathan snapped.

Dr. James smiled down at Jonathan. “I’ll send for the doctor. We’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” Jonathan pulled at the restraints. “Ready for what?”

“Jonathan, what if I told you, you could really make a difference. That you could turn the tide of this battle.”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan understood the question, but not the context around it.

Dr. James left without answering, leaving Jonathan thoroughly confused and alone.

It was pointless to try and run, Jonathan guessed he was quite far underground in the Department of Energy facility.

Even if he could run, Jonathan wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. Here he had a chance to mine them for information, to get to the bottom of what was going on. He was sure his kidnapping had something to do with the other disappearances, and it was time he found out what they were up to.

Dr. James and Brenner entered the room with a group of white-wearing scientists.

“Hello Jonathan,” Brenner said kindly. “Sorry about all the abduction fuss. We just couldn’t risk you turning us down.”

“Turning you down?”

“Here’s where we’re at Jonathan.” Brenner pulled up a chair. “The entire planet is going to be destroyed. Inevitable. If it’s not this time, it’ll be the next, or the time after that. We are not…equipped to battle these new adversaries. We don’t stand a chance.”

“You get that, don’t you?” Dr. James seemed intent on ensuring Jonathan understood.

Brenner continued, “To survive, people will need to sacrifice. If a few lives is the cost of humanity’s survival, so be It.”

“Sacrifice?” Jonathan was missing pieces to this puzzle. “What have you done?” No one in the room would meet his eyes. “What have you all done?” He searched each of them for some indication, for a sign, they were all blank.

“Only what was necessary,” Brenner finally answered. “You’ve seen beyond the gates, you know what’s out there. We can’t beat that.”

Jonathan was still fitting things together in his mind. “That’s what you’ve really been doing here isn’t it? You’re not trying to save the town at all.”

“No.” Brenner stood up and had a grand tone to his voice, as if he was declaring some fantastic breakthrough. “I’m trying to save the _world_. I don’t expect you to understand. But I do expect you to cooperate.”

Cooperate? Jonathan didn’t like the sound of that.

“Willingly.” Brenner paused. “Or unwillingly. The case.” He snapped his fingers and a scientist passed Dr. James a silver briefcase, which he faced towards Brenner and opened.

Dr. James talked while Brenner looked in the case. “Your brother has quite the imagination. All that time he spent in the other dimension he was seeing things, observing it all, and he named the things he saw. He’s got quite a knack for naming things.”

Jonathan saw into the case. There was a long line of syringes, all of them filled with strange liquids. One was white, another was glowing faintly green, Jonathan saw scribbled a word scribbled along a dark red syringe.

“Demogorgon?” Jonathan said. He wasn’t as smart as Nancy, or as quick as Steve, but the final piece of this puzzle slotted into place. “No. No, don’t- you can’t.”

Brenner chose a syringe, the one with white gloop inside.

Dr. James looked as nervous as Jonathan felt. “Jonathan, if you relax it was make things less painful.”

He pulled at the restraints, he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Actually,” Brenner said, piercing Jonathan’s skin with the needle, “relaxing won’t help at all.”

The liquid rushed through Jonathan’s veins, freezing them. Waves upon waves of ice coursed through him. He couldn’t form a coherent thought.

The last thing he heard before his eyes rolled up into his head, was his own scream.

***

Steve went to bed just after three A.M.

He could feel a fever coming on, he wasn’t sure if it was genuine, or just in his head, but as he started to sweat and shiver he thought he’d rather be dead.

The second he closed his eyes Steve was covered in flashes of white hot pain. Like needles jabbing into his skin, behind his eyes, in his eardrums.

Screams echoed in his ears as he twitched. Something was happening. Something awful.

Bright streaks flickered behind his eyes, like hospital lights.

It was unlike any dream he had ever had. Even his worst nightmares were more solid, at least in his nightmares he could control his own body.  

At least in his nightmares he could run from the dark.

***

Time had a way of stretching when one was in agonizing pain. The same way time went quickly if you were having fun, it became impossibly slow when you were suffering.

Jonathan’s thoughts started to clear, but that only made it worse. There was no fuzzy filter between himself and the pain now.

His body was seized and he could feel each tooth as his jaw rattled. He wondered if his teeth would split, if they would crack and he’d be toothless. If it ended the pain in his jaw, he’d happily be toothless.

***

Steve had fallen into darkness.

Jonathan was gone and Eleven couldn’t find him. Everyone around him was treating him like he was made of glass. Sometimes he felt as if he was.

It was the second night without Jonathan.

They’d started patrolling the town, always in pairs, even during the daytime. The others wanted to keep the town safe, and they pretended that’s why Steve joined them. But they all knew Steve didn’t care about anything but Jonathan now. He walked the streets in the hopes he’d stumble across them. He cruised in Hopper’s truck praying that Jonathan would magically appear in the middle of the street.

He didn’t.

Steve and Nancy parked up outside the gas station, checked the clips in their guns, and set off down the main street.

They were both layered up warmly, even though it was mid-afternoon, thick clouds had covered the sun and snow was falling. The air was that sort of dry that chapped lips in minutes.

It was over an hour before either of them said anything. They’d walked in tandem, sweeping the streets with their eyes. Eventually Nancy threaded her arm through Steve’s. It was a small comfort, but one they both needed.

“How’re things in the lab?” It wasn’t far enough removed to be a safe topic, but it was Steve’s attempt at pretending he wasn’t breaking.

“The work hasn’t really gone much further. The science has stalled. More fractures appear quicker than Eleven can close them, and she’s out of juice, I’ve never seen anyone look so drained. She can’t keep this up.”

Steve shook his head. “Hundreds of scientists and they leave it all up to a kid.”

“Actually, most of the scientists have been working on something else. I’m pretty much on my own now. But that has its perks.”

“Oh?”

Nancy looked guilty. “The way I see it, my parents pay taxes, which pay for government salaries, and the Department of Energy, while a rouge unit, is still funded by the government. So technically, it’s not stealing, it’s redistributing what I’ve already paid for.”

Steve felt an almost-smile tug at his lips. But he stopped. He couldn’t smile while Jonathan was gone, maybe in danger, maybe dead. He wondered if he’d ever smile again. “What’ve you been _redistributing?_ ”

“Bit of this, bit of that.” Nancy evaded. “Their technology is really advanced. And I can’t help but think it’d be better used by me, you know?”

Steve whistled. “Nancy Wheeler, master thief and rebel. Who knew.”

Nancy’s face dropped and it took Steve a moment to figure out why. Something rang in his memories.

“Barb used to call me a rebel,” Nancy said softly.

Steve remembered the night Barb had been taken, even though he’d been drunk out of his mind. It was the night he’d almost slept with Nancy, almost lost his virginity.

“Sometimes when I’m walking and there’s a crowd,” Nancy rubbed her hands, “I think I see her, her hair, or her glasses, but when I look back; nothing. Even my subconscious won’t let me escape.”

They lapsed into silence.

“W-what if he doesn’t come back?” Steve stuttered, emotion clogging his throat.

Nancy took his hand. “If you give up, then he won’t come back. If you give up hope then so will the rest of us. I won’t tell you not to blame yourself, you will, you are, I already see it. It was the same with me and Barb.” Nancy’s eyes were glassy.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Steve squeezed her hand. It was the same way he’d squeezed Jonathan’s hand to reassure him. It had worked with Jonathan, and it worked with Nancy. But it felt like a hollow gesture to Steve.

“No, it’s okay. I should be able to talk about it.” She took a deep breath. “Those first few weeks were the worst. If it weren’t for Jonathan…he was there for me when no one else was. No offence.”

Steve waved her away. “None taken. I remember what I was like.” The battles had changed him. Jonathan had changed him. He almost retched, when had he started to sound like a cheap romance novel.

“I stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. I couldn’t handle it at all. I knew it was my fault. I couldn’t forgive myself, and I can’t forgive myself now. I doubt I’ll ever be able to, but it’s my new normal. You learn to manage.”

“How long?” Steve choked.

“How long until what?”

“Until you accepted that she was gone.”

“Every day the hope got weaker and weaker. But I don’t think I’ll ever accept that she’s gone. I don’t think I’m capable of letting go.” Nancy wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “Somedays I want to pack my bags and leave. But then I know for sure that I’d never see her again. SoI here I am. And here we are. Waiting.”

Steve’s loss had blinded him to anyone else’s feelings. He hadn’t considered that he might not be the only one hurting. “You love him,” Steve said.

Nancy nodded. “Not like- not like that. But yes. I love you too. I used to think I was _in_ love with you. Now you’re more of a good-looking but incredibly annoying sibling.”

They dawdled down the road, leaving tracks in the wet snow.

“I thought I was in love with you too,” Steve admitted. “I thought I was in love with most girls I met. But then there was Jonathan, and that sorta threw all that out the window.”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Steve bit his lip. There was no point in denying it. “It’s hard to ignore now that he’s gone. I should have told him. I waited and now he’s gone. What if I never get to tell him?”

Nancy smiled sadly.

“Sorry it wasn’t you Nancy. Things would have been a lot easier if I’d fallen in love with you.”

Nancy grinned. “Meh, you’re not that much of a catch, to be honest.”

Steve finally cracked a smile.

***

 

The pain began to subside and as the white noise ebbed, Jonathan heard voices.

Voices that never ended, a constant flow of bellowing. He couldn’t move to cover his ears, he might have still been strapped down, he couldn’t tell. The world was blank around him.

Time passed. Or didn’t. And the voices softened into whispers. Jonathan wasn’t sure if they really had quieted, or if he’d just gotten so used to them that they diminished.

Images flashed across his vision when he was asleep, and the whispers filled his ears when he was conscious.

***

The snow was getting thicker each day. Like most nights, Steve had spent the night before patrolling the streets. Sometimes he was joined by Nancy, other times by Hopper, on rare occasions Joyce accompanied him.

Hopper’s deputies did their bit, they didn’t know why they were all placed on night shifts. Hopper didn’t explain, and they followed him loyally. The chief wasn’t ready to tell everyone at the station about inter-dimensional monsters.

Steve padded out of the bedroom and into the shower, relishing in the scalding streams against his skin. He edged the shower hotter and hotter, just to see how much he could take. The pain was good. He was happy just to feel.

He shut off the water, dried himself quickly, and dressed. His shirt stuck to his back and his hair ran rivulets down his face.

He’d been skipping school all week. No one had pulled him up on it. He imagined the school had phoned his parents, but that didn’t worry him in the slightest. He shuffled towards the kitchen, stopping to look at each photograph that was hung on the hallway wall. It felt like he was intruding on the captured moments, moments he hadn’t been a part of, but desperately wished he had.

“I fixed you a hot chocolate, come and get it before it goes cold,” Joyce yelled through the house.

Steve entered the kitchen. “Hey Mrs. B, didn’t realize you were still home.”

“I’m taking less shifts at the store.”

Steve looked up from his drink. “Do you need help? I can give you some money.”

Joyce held up her hand. “Steve, stop. It’s not that at all. I just have different priorities now. Getting out there with you and Jim, getting ready for the fights to come, that’s what’s important.”

“But the bills…”

“Steve Harrington that’s enough worrying thank-you very much.”

“If I moved out you wouldn’t have to spend so much on food-”

Joyce cut him off. “You’ll do no such thing. We’ll manage. We always have. You leaving at a time like this won’t help anything.” She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers.

The guilt bubbling away in his chest eased a little. He was a burden on an already stretched household.

“This came today.” Joyce passed him a thick envelope. “I know Jonathan prefers to develop them himself, but well…” She trailed off, tears in her eyes.

He opened the envelope, trying to stop the shake in his hands.

The first few photos were of trees, Steve leafed through them, Jonathan had captured every shade of leaf imaginable, green leaves clinging on to branches, orange ones littering the ground, the last in the set was of a bare tree, its thin branches looked sharp.

Will stood center stage in the next photo, laughing at the dinner table. The next was of both Will and Joyce, from behind, doing the dishes. The very same kitchen he was currently in, months later, and not a hint of laughter in the air.

He flipped the next photo. He hadn’t known what to expect, but the ache in his chest ripped open.

Jonathan and Steve were standing together, dressed in shirts and jackets. Steve’s arm was wrapped around Jonathan’s waist and resting on his hip. A rare smile was on Jonathan’s lips, matching Steve’s cheeky grin.

They looked carefree, even though around them, danger was building. The world was getting ready to collapse on them, fold them into its calamity.

The next photo was worse. Jonathan was still smiling at the camera, unaware that Steve had turned and was looking at him. Steve hadn’t ever seen that look on his own face before, but he recognized it as the physical manifestation of the warmth he felt whenever he was close to Jonathan.

The third was worse still.

Jonathan had felt his gaze and looked towards him. Steve remembered the other man’s confusion before their expressions mirrored. Steve hadn’t ever thought he’d look at someone like that, let alone have that person look back at him the same way. As if the sun could set for the last time and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference. He wasn’t worthy of that look. He wasn’t worthy of Jonathan.

There was only one photo left. And at first Steve couldn’t bring himself to look. It was torture. He knew what the last photo held, it represented what could have been, what was lost to him now. They were always going to be up against the odds, and they were never going to be far from danger, but Steve hadn’t expected it all to be taken from him so soon.

He only realized he was crying when Joyce passed him a box to tissues. She was crying too, as if she could feel the force of Steve’s emotions. She moved around the table and hugged him. Steve’s own mother had never been a hugger. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever hugged him.

Joyce didn’t let go, and neither did Steve. He needed this, needed the comfort.

“I’m going to find him,” Steve mumbled into Joyce’s shoulder. “And I’m going to bring him home.”

***

Jonathan eventually drew the strength to open his eyes. His hair with wet with sweat and stuck to his face. Eye’s half-lidded, he watched a scientist enter the room and begin checking the instruments around his bed.

_Poor boy. He’s not going to make it. Oh well, onto the next one._

What a horrible woman, Jonathan thought, to be talking like that while he was right there.

Had to get out.

Had to tell Steve.

He started to shake and he blacked out.

***

Hopper honked the horn.

Steve shut the door to the Byers’ house and locked it. It was just after two in the morning and Steve pulled the jacket closer around him.

“Hey Hop,” Steve said, climbing into the truck.

Hopper nodded. “Steve.” He gunned the truck and took off towards town.

“Quiet night?”

“As usual.” Hopper fiddled with the dials and the dashboard blew out warm air.

Steve rubbed his hands together in front of the vent. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird-”

“That since Jonathan disappeared everything’s gone quiet?”

“Yeah.”

“Weird is right,” Hopper said.

“The way things were headed, I expected it to get a lot worse.”

“I’ve been thinking the same. No Demogorgons, no missing people. It’s too good to be true.” Hopper tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What if someone else was keeping the monsters away?” Steve suggested.

“Hm. But think about what it would take to kill one, to defend the town from all the cracks. Something like that can’t exist. We’d know about it.”

“You think Nancy’s fancy gate things are helping?” Steve didn’t really know how they worked, or why, but he was happy to trust in Nancy’s science.

“I sure hope so. El hasn’t felt up to as much as slamming a door recently.”

“You worried about her?”

Hopper scoffed. “Even if I didn’t have to deal with her government coverups and abilities, I’d still worry about her.”

“I get that.”

Hopper didn’t respond, just made a thoughtful noise.

“Where is El tonight?” Steve asked, keen to keep the conversation going so he wasn’t left alone with his thoughts.

“At the Wheeler’s. She likes to hang out with Nancy. She’s a good influence.”

“The world could use another Nancy Wheeler,” Steve said.

“And of course, there’s Mike,” Hopper’s tone was clipped.

Steve smirked. “Good kid.”

“Yeah. I’m sure. I just don’t want him corrupting my El.”

“Hop,” Steve said, trying not to laugh. “She’s killed more people that all of us combined, and she didn’t even need a gun. I wouldn’t say she needs protecting from a boy.”

Hopper pouted, a strange look on a man so butch. “She’ll always need me to protect her.”

“You mean you’ll always _want_ to protect her.”

“What’s the difference?”

Steve scoffed again.

The lights on the radio glowed and a man’s voice crackled through the speaker.  “Chief, you there?”

Hopper picked up the walkie and spoke into it. “Copy, Rodger.”

“Distrubance at the quarry, Chief.”

“On our way.”

“Sounds like it might be a break in.”

“Rodger, Rodger.” Hopper put the radio down. “Rodger is a dumb name for a deputy to have, I should never have hired him.” He pulled a U-turn and floored it.

The quarry was well lit with floodlights, but huge piles of rocks and pebbles cast long shadows.

Hopper stopped the truck outside one of the portable offices.

They got out and Steve tasted dust on his tongue, the air was clogged with it.

“Go that way,” Hopper pointed left. “Shout if you find anything.”

Steve picked his way between the mounds of stone. He listened until white noise turned him deaf. He was on such high-alert, so keen were his senses, that he only noticed the man when he tapped him on the shoulder.

Steve jumped and fell face-first onto the ground. He flipped over, ready for a fight. But instead of an enemy, the man had a good-natured face, he was even smiling.

The man boomed a hearty laugh that echoed around the quarry, taking all of Steve’s remaining dignity with it. He reached down to give Steve a hand up, saying, ‘Sorry about that.”

Steve took the hand and rose to his feet.

Hopper rounded a mountain of stone and spotted the two of them. “Frank!”

“Evening, Chief.” The man tipped his hat.

The two shook hands. “I’d know that laugh anywhere. Couldn’t be a spy if you tried,” Hop laughed.

Frank shrugged. “Thankfully, we’ll never have to find out, eh? Nixon will sort those commies right out, no more spies.”

“Steve this is Frank Sattler, he owns the quarry.” Steve gave the man a half wave. Hopper leaned an elbow on the railing that surrounded the office. “Even though this is your land Frank, you still can’t be out this late.” Hopper had gone into Chief mode.

“I know, I know.” Frank held up his hands with a sheepish grin. “But the wife was driving me outta my mind, and I’ve got some whiskey stashed in my desk.”

Hopper lost his authoritative tone, “You need to watch yourself, Frank, you’re not half the fighter you used to be.”

“Yes, but I’m twice the man,” Frank laughed, patting his stomach.

Hopper cracked a grin. “Head home Frank. No fight with your wife’s worth dying for.”

Frank nodded and looked up to the sky, the floodlights bleached out any stars. “Lived in this town my whole life, Jim. And I ain’t never seen anything like this. Kids going missing, people showing up dead. Just last week, did ya hear about that Byers kid? Just up and gone. Probably long dead by now,” he added sadly.

Steve’s eye twitched and he felt a painful pressure build behind his eyes.

“Get home Frank,” Hopper said softly, watching Steve.

Steve walked numbly back to the truck, tripping a few times over his own feet.

The second he got into the truck, Hopper started talking, but Steve didn’t hear him.

Steve cut him off after a few minutes of Hopper’s droning. “Do you think he’s right?”

Hopper didn’t say anything.

Steve knew he’d heard, and they he understood the question, so he followed bluntly. “Do you think Jonathan is dead?”

Hopper sighed. “Are you going to give up hope?”

“Never,” Steve said with relish.

“Then that’s all that counts,” the chief said with finality.

Silence followed as Steve mulled that over. He didn’t think he could ever give up hope, not really. He could only imagine getting used to the pain, acclimatizing to his loss. But no, he didn’t think he’d ever stop looking at the door, waiting for that messy mop of hair and concerned eyes. Waiting to hear camera clicks. Desperate to hear his laugh.

“Frank didn’t know what he was talking about before,” Hop said, bringing Steve back.

“I know.”

“Great guy, Frank. His family were some of the first people in Hawkins. He owns the quarry, some of the woodlands, owns half the buildings in town actually, friendly guy.”

“Must be nice, having all that money,” Steve said bitterly, thinking about Joyce and her struggles.

“We’ll manage Steve. It’s what we do.”

***

Jonathan’s strength was returning slowly.

He only knew this because the doctors and scientists were constantly talking about his state. He wasn’t feeling any better than the first time he’d regained consciousness.

They couldn’t have known he was conscious or they wouldn’t have talked so openly around him. They poured their darkest secrets to his immobile form, they made crude jokes, spoke of their lustful fantasies.

One woman was stealing the good coffee from the breakroom and taking it home. Another chick was chatting about her three boyfriends. But a young man talked about shooting someone in the head, saying his bullet was a gift.

Jonathan couldn’t move. Couldn’t act. So he listened.

***

Steve cruised passed the middle school just after three.

“Y’all wanna go to the arcade?” Steve said out the window.

The answer was always going to be yes, so Steve didn’t bat an eye when all the kids piled in. It was the sleekest clown car in history.

He looked in the rear view. Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike and Eleven were all squished in. Will took the passenger seat.

Steve didn’t bother to remind them to wear seatbelts, but he did make sure to take the corners slow, and didn’t speed, because he had definitely never broken the speed limit ever.

“Hey Max, you haven’t heard from your brother, have you?” Steve asked over his shoulder, flicking back to the road quickly.

“Nah. Our parents filed a missing person’s report with the station. I think they’re just adding him on to the pile of ‘disappeared’.”

“You don’t think he might have been taken?” Steve knew Max wouldn’t mind the question, she had no love for Billy.

“Knowing Billy, he’ll probably show up next month with a pregnant chick and a trunk full of booze. It’s what he does.”

The other kids were silent. Steve didn’t know what to say, so he left Max to brood out the window.

The arcade was pretty empty so the kids got first pick of all their favorite games. Dustin went straight to Dragons’s Lair, fueled by his need to beat the high score. Mike and Eleven made a beeline for Duck Hunt, wasting no time picking up the plastic guns and getting to it. Max dragged Lucas to play Pac-Man, knowing her reflexes would get her a much higher score.

Steve drank his cola, leaning against the outside of the arcade. The sun had started to tint orange already, the winter days were getting shorter and shorter. Right when they needed the sunlight most, it was abandoning them, leaving them unprotected.

“Steve.” Will stuck his head out of the door. “Wanna have a game?”

Steve nodded and followed. The machine Will lead them to was another shooter. Two guns against hundreds of zombies. Steve had faced worse odds.

“Let’s crack the high score!” Will bubbled excitedly.

Dustin scoffed as he walked past. “You’ve got not chance.”

“Good luck Will!” Eleven said, following Dustin to the counter.

Will loaded up all the coins and a video started rolling on the screen. “Jonathan used to play this with me sometimes,” Will said quietly.

Steve ignored the pang in his gut, because he had to be strong, the kids were looking to him now. They needed someone strong to look up to. “I bet he was awful at it.”

Will laughed. “He really was.”

“That’s why he has me. Couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.” Steve hoped his words were wrong, and that Jonathan could fight, and that he was fighting right now.

The game started, Steve picked up his plastic gun and began shooting the pixilated undead.

Will was good, but Steve was better, quicker.

They completed the first round with ease and another film screen rolled between rounds.

“You’re good with a gun,” Will said without a hint of jealousy. “We really do have a shot at the high score.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Steve laughed. “Although computer zombies are a nice change from your regular old Demogorgon.” Steve remembered the last time he’d been shooting at monsters. Outside the gym. All three of them; Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan.

That was the last time Steve had truly felt in control.

Round two started and Steve was under pressure this time, the zombies got closer and their health took a hit.

“Here comes the first boss!” Will yelled.

A huge zombie broke through a door and ran at the screen. Both Steve and Will fired their guns relentlessly until the zombie exploded, spraying the screen with bloody body parts.

The third loading screen rolled.

“You’re going to bring him back, aren’t you Steve?”

Steve’s knuckles went white as his grip on the gun tightened painfully.

Steve tried for his best reassuring smile. “You bet lil Byers. You bet.”

The other kids formed a crowd around them as the pair shot their way to the last level.

They both took heavy damage from the zombies and it looked like they were about to die, but Steve didn’t stop, and Will wouldn’t quit.

“Final boss,” Will said through gritted teeth.

“Shoot its legs!” Mike advised.

“No go for his eyes!” Lucas corrected.

“Just shoot the fucking thing!” Dustin yelled.

The biggest and ugliest zombie yet ran onto the screen.

They pulled their triggers so fast it sounded like they were using machine guns. With a final crash, the zombie fell down, full of virtual bullets.

Their score flashed, right at the top of the leader boards.

“Nice!” Steve high-fived Will.

Dustin’s eyes were wide. “Did not see that coming.”

***

The first time Dr. James had come Jonathan was awake, but drowsy.

He guessed that one of the tubes connected to his wrist was dripping a sedative into his body, keeping him drugged.

“Hello Jonathan.” He was cheery as usual, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You had us worried for a minute there. We thought we were going to lose you.”

_Thank god we didn’t. Nancy would hate me._

“Nancy, is she here?” Jonathan croaked, his voice still raw from the screams. And he remembered the screams, each one of them clear and dancing through his ears as echoes.

Dr. James blanched, staring down at his clipboard. “Uh-well now, you need to focus on getting back to full health.” The doctor’s eyes flicked over to Jonathan.

Jonathan watched the man’s pupils dilate until he was lost in their black depths.

Dr. James had snoozed his alarm once that morning. He’d eaten cornflakes for breakfast. His mother died in a car accident when he was seven. He took his coffee black. He nodded and his guards shot a half-breed beast.

Jonathan saw himself through Dr. James’ eyes at that very moment.

He gasped back into himself.

“W-what have you done to me?” he demanded, not nearly as strong as he’d have liked.

Dr. James stumbled back and scrambled out of the room.

A few seconds later and a scientist in a hazmat suit burst into his room, crossed it in two strides, and shoved a large syringe into Jonathan’s neck.

The darkness was instant.

***

“Me again.”

Jonathan woke, sluggish. Dr. James was back, this time he was wearing black sunglasses. Which Jonathan thought was stupid, considering they were inside, and the room didn’t even have windows.

“We’re going to start your testing today.”

“Testing?”

“We need to figure out how the serum manifested.”

Jonathan stifled an eye roll. “You mean you don’t know what you did to me?”

The door opened and a man with a bushy mustache came in, no sunglasses.

Jonathan heard whispers immediately, realizing that moments before it had been silent. The usual din of voices had been gone.

“Ted here is going to look at a card,” Dr. James explained. “And you’re going to tell me what’s on it.”

“What, you’ve made me a psychic? If I could tell you the future, I’ll be able to get the hell out of this place, wouldn’t I?” Jonathan stung.

“Less of the witty replies, and focus on the card please.”

Ted pulled a card from the top of the deck.

_Heart._

“Heart,” Jonathan repeated, automatically, hating himself for saying a thing.

Dr. James nodded. “Good. Another.”

_A man. ­_

Jonathan felt the lie in the voice, he looked into Ted’s eyes pulling the image from them. “A bird.”

“Another.”

_Octopus._

Jonathan fell into Ted’s eyes and saw the card. He felt Ted’s body shiver around him. At first glance it did look like an octopus. But Jonathan knew better, he’d seen that triangular head before. “That’s not an octopus.”

Jonathan couldn’t make out Dr. James’ expression behind his glasses. “That will be all Ted, please send in Annette.”

Visibly shaken, Ted left the room.

Annette entered. She was a wide woman with almost as an impressive mustache as Ted’s. She was holding a small cage. A white rat ran around erratically, throwing itself into the cage walls and clawing at the bottom plastic bottom.

“Stop the rat Jonathan,” Dr. James said.

Jonathan pulled at his restraints. “In case you’ve forgotten…”

“Stop the rat.”

“How?”

“Stop it.”

Jonathan looked across at the rat at the end of his bed. It was wild and its beady red eyes were bright. It ran at the wall over and over. It was going to kill itself. Jonathan didn’t much care for the lives of rats, but he didn’t want to watch one kill itself.

Stop, he thought, but the rat only grew more agitated.

Stop! The rat started to screech.

 _STOP_.

The rat went rigid. Not a muscle in its body twitched.

He stared at it for a while, feeling out for its mind. It was a simple creature, and while it obviously didn’t think in words, it had imprints of thoughts that Jonathan could interpret. It had suffered great pain. Jonathan felt sorry for it, abused in a lab. It just wanted relief. Jonathan could relate to it.

_Sleep._

The rat fell on its side and its small chest rose and fell gently.

“Torturing defenseless animals now too? Unsurprised.” Jonathan spat at Dr. James, not bothering to hide his disgust.

“Don’t be so precious,” the woman, Annette, said briskly. But she’d made the mistake of meeting Jonathan’s eyes.

As he was about to fall into her widening pupils he dragged himself back, trying something new.

_Stop._

Annette froze.

The whispers in Jonathan’s head grew louder, there was a deep voice in the mix. One he hadn’t heard before. He focused on it, tried to isolate it from the other voices clambering in the background.

“Kill her,” the silky voice was clear now Jonathan had focused on it. It slithered into his mind like a snake through the grass. It was cold. It was demanding. It would not be ignored.

Jonathan didn’t want to kill her.

“Kill her!” It was too loud, Jonathan wanted it to stop.

_Stop breathing._

Annette’s chest stopped moving. Her eyes bulged.

“Jonathan,” Dr. James said, “That’s enough.”

He didn’t listen.

“Enough!” Dr. James slapped him hard in the face.

Jonathan let his grip on Annette break.

Rather than being scared at the voice, or mad at being hit, Jonathan felt hatred towards himself. The silky voice had almost convinced him to kill someone, he hadn’t resisted, not really.

What was worse was how powerful he’d felt in that moment.

***

Dr. Brenner was there the next time Jonathan woke. He was wearing mirrored lenses, just as Dr. James had.

“Jonathan.”

“Brenner.”

“Good to see you’re recovering well.”

Jonathan wasn’t interested in small talk. “How many have you turned?”

“Successfully?” He took a moment to think. “You’d be the second- no. Third.”

“Successfully? How many weren’t successful?” Jonathan felt a cold sinking in his stomach. Brenner didn’t answer, and that was answer enough. Lots. Lots had been unsuccessful.

Jonathan couldn’t hear the whispers, though he had come to hate the constant noise, Jonathan felt uncomfortable without hearing them. It was too silent. “You can’t just take people and experiment on them.”

“I can’t?” Brenner looked around the room. “No one’s stopped me yet.”

 “Why me?” Jonathan probed.

Brenner checked his watch. “I don’t have a lot of time, so we’ll go for the quick version.” He dragged a chair across the ground and sat in it, too close for Jonathan’s comfort. “We developed serums. The one’s you saw. We hoped they might be able to speed up our old…treatments. What took us ten years with the first children, would take us ten hours with the serum.”

Brenner looked at Jonathan, and the teenager could feel the intensity of his gaze, even behind the mirrored lenses.

“So, there we were, with the means to build an army. To defend ourselves. The trials started on our willing participants.”

Jonathan knew when Brenner had said willing participants that that had escalated into unwilling participants, like himself. He wondered how many more had been trialed against their will.

Brenner continued, “Those first few attempts were…disasters. The serum didn’t take. It morphed them so quickly, so violently. They died shortly after being injected.” He didn’t even have the good grace to look guilty. “We discovered that only some people had the genome allowing them to accept the serum, and its resulting metamorphosis. Then we set out to find them, find the ones who were genetically viable. Only, none of the people in our lab were a match.

“We did find matches, we were able to access people’s medical files through the hospital. We identified dozens of matches. We brought them here, and I thought we’d finally managed it. Things looked so promising. Only…we hadn’t done it. The results were better, yes. But not ideal.” He was so clinical, so detached from the collateral damage that Jonathan felt sick.

“They became half human, half…something else. Wild creatures. Unthinking beasts. We couldn’t figure it out. And then the solution presented itself to us. He arrived on our doorstep, willing and ready. He was dating one of our researchers at the time, she told him about our program. Told him we could make him impossibly strong, give him powers, give him the potential to really make a difference. He was the first. The serum took. There was no visible disfigurement. And oh, his abilities were off the charts. Hungry for power, and he had it. I created the perfect soldier.” He sounded in awe of himself, spiking disgust in Jonathan.

“God complex much?” Jonathan said, taking advantage of Brenner’s pause. He sure liked to monologue. Jonathan would have called him a cliché, but he didn’t want to stop the doctor talking. Jonathan was learning everything he needed to know.

Brenner ignored Jonathan’s comment. “It’s the youth, you see. The body is so much better equipped for change. And now that we knew we needed the young, we tested you all at school. Found some matches. None of them worked quite as well as the first, but they worked well enough.

“There was the girl, Jesus, that was something truly unnatural. And you Jonathan. You’ve fused with the dimensional DNA better than anyone.” His eyes were lit, giving him a wild look.

It was too much, all of it, and exhaustion caught up with him and hit him hard. He passed out without warning.

***

Jonathan was aware of was a feeling.

He felt as if he stood on the edge of something magnificent, something terrifying.

It was the same feeling one might feel standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon, rocking on their heels.

Light sparked at the center of his vision and ate away at the darkness until he was confronted with a hauntingly familiar sight.

The corridor was still wrapped up in thick vines, but this time there were no spores in the air. He felt the thrum of the vines and could see them properly for the first time. Wet like rubber, they pulsed red, and black, and back to red. He could feel them, stretched out not just through the hospital, but through the entire Upside Down. He felt them all.

His feet carried him forward, like always. His heart picked up and thumped to the same tempo of the vines.

It was here. Just beyond the door. His stomach twisted, just as it had the day his father left them, and when it was Christmas day and he was surrounded by his family. He couldn’t differentiate the feeling. It was neither all bad, nor all good. But something in between the two.

The door was marked 012.

Beyond the door was the man. Jonathan could sense him now, could sense his mind.

He saw it before it happened, he knew, really. He’d known since the first time he entered this dream. How could he not have known? This dream was a circle. And a circle had no beginning and no end.

The door vanished.

The man wasn’t screaming.

Wasn’t in distress.

He was sat up calmly waiting for Jonathan, his hair swept back and not masking his face this time.

Jonathan was looking into round bloodshot eyes. His own eyes.

_Hello._

_You’ve been bringing me here, haven’t you?_

_I had to._

_I know._

_We needed to be here. In this moment. I had to show you the path._

_It’s too late to go back isn’t it?_

_Yes._

_What are we? What will we become?_

_Something new. Something unstoppable._

_I don’t know enough._

_You know everything you need to know._

_I don’t understand any of this._

_Trust us. We know what we’re doing._

_I can’t think straight._

_You don’t need to think. Thinking will slow you down._

_What am I?_

_You are what you always were, what you are, and what you will be._

A wind pulled him forward.

He blinked.

He was in the bed now, staring at the door. It opened and he was staring back at himself, damp hair covering his own face. He yelled out as another wind picked him up.

***

He was back in his body, he patted himself, just to make sure.

Jonathan’s mind was no longer hazy. He felt sharp. He felt strong.

It was time to call Steve.

He closed his eyes, not knowing exactly what he was doing, but he knew what he wanted. He wanted Steve and he knew he was different now, like Eleven, but…more. And if she could reach Will all the way in the Upside Down, Jonathan could reach Steve from across town.

_Steve._

_Steve!_

_STEVE._

Jonathan felt Steve wake up.

There was a pause, a pause in which Jonathan wondered if he’d gone crazy, how on Earth could he ‘feel’ Steve wake up? He’d lost his mind. But if was crazy, he rationed, he had nothing to lose.

If he told Steve where he was, his boyfriend would likely get killed trying to rescue him. If he didn’t call for him, Jonathan would surely die in this bed.

One more moment with Steve, just one more. He knew they’d both be willing to pay the price.

_Department of Energy. Room Twelve._

***

Steve tossed and turned, as usual. Normally he got to sleep after a few hours of this frustrating dance, waking soon after to sunlight on his face.

Tonight when he fell asleep, his blood filled with ice.

He was in a hospital room, it was empty, but somewhere near him he could hear yelling. He tried the doorknob but it was locked. He threw his shoulder into the frame but it didn’t budge.

There was a crackle, like a far-off voice coming through the radio.

“Ste...” It faded out.

“Stev…” The voice was so weak.

“STEVE!” This time the voice was clear and most definitely Jonathan’s.

A figure shimmered into existence on the empty bed.

“Department of Energy,” it mumbled. “Room twelve.”

Steve sat bolt upright in bed, any hope of sleep obliterated, replaced by pure adrenalin.

Jonathan.

Steve pulled on his shoes, checked his gun, and shut the door behind him quietly.

He hadn’t woken Joyce, or Will. He didn’t want to risk them, and in truth, he thought they’d probably just get in his way, or talk him out of it. He was going to break into a secret government facility based only on words in a dream.

It could have all been a figment of his imagination. But his desperation had peaked, and he was willing to follow any leads he could, no matter how farfetched they were.

Steve pushed the pedal to the floor and he didn’t let up until he came to a sharp halt outside the gates to the Department of Energy. He was about to ram them when they rolled open.

He drove forward slowly. Hesitant now.

The lights were on in the facility, and the front doors were wide open. He killed the engine, grabbed his gun from the passenger seat, and edged his way into the building.

Behind the desk, as if she’d been expecting him, was the relentlessly cheerful receptionist.

“Dr. Brenner is waiting for you.” She beamed. “Second floor.” She pointed to the elevators on her right.

Steve got in the gilded lift and pushed for the second floor.

The doors pinged open and Steve was confronted by Dr. Brenner and a dozen guns, all pointed at his face. “Mr. Harrington. If you’d follow me.”

Steve did follow, but he didn’t holster his gun, he let it hang by his side, ready to take out as many of them as possible before they inevitably killed him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Brenner slowed down so they were walking level. He seemed completely at ease.

“I’ve come for Jonathan.”

“I won’t insult you by playing stupid. He’s here. And almost finished with his treatment.”

Steve stopped walking. “What’re you running? A demon day spa?”

Brenner stopped and turned. “Not far off. Here’s my offer Mr. Harrington.”

“Offer?” Steve hadn’t learned much from his father, but he had learned the fine art of bargaining. “I’m not here to make a deal.”

Brenner smiled. “I’ll release Jonathan.”

“Good. I expected nothing less. Take me to him, now.” Steve cocked the handgun.

The guards all had their rifles trained on Steve’s head.

“I release Jonathan, you do me one thing,” Brenner said.

Steve knew that whatever the price was he’d pay it, but he wasn’t going to let Brenner see his desperation. “What?”

“Undergo the trials. Survive, and Jonathan goes free. Die, and well, you won’t know either way.”

Steve’s choice was already made. He’d risk anything to get Jonathan out of here. Anything, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Brenner’s eyes lit up. He snapped his fingers and a door to their right opened.

013 was painted on the door.

Steve dropped his gun and climbed onto the bed. He would do this, whatever it took.

Brenner popped the lid on a sleek suitcase and withdrew a long syringe. “You know, for years and years we used drugs, electro-therapy, all sorts to develop abilities in our subjects.”

Brenner prepped the syringe, it was filled with a black goo with red streaks through it. Brenner gestured his head and two guards pinned Steve down onto the bed.

“If only we’d known the secret was just on the other side of the fence.” Brenner stabbed the syringe deep into Steve’s neck and pushed the plunger down.

Steve’s vision blurred and came back into focus. DEMOGORGON was printed on the label of the syringe.

“It’s harder to acquire the blood of interdimensional monsters, but look how much quicker it works!”

Steve felt every nerve on his body burn like napalm.

***

Jonathan didn’t feel unsafe in the facility. He was sure he’d know if danger was near.

He slept, always on the edge of consciousness, never deep, never comfortable.

_Johnny._

Jonathan opened his eyes.

Steve’s voice was weak.

 _Steve, you came!_ Jonathan could feel him close.

 _Sorry Johnny. I’m sorry…_ he heard Steve’s scream with his ears and his mind.

“STEVE,” he roared, pulling against the restraints with an energy he didn’t know he had, his skin broke, blood dripped, but still he struggled.

Steve’s thoughts were on fire, his mind spinning out of control.

The screams were endless.

Eventually, the sound of Steve’s screams ceased.

A nurse bustled into Jonathan’s room and he began yelling at her, begging her to release him, or tell him where Steve was.

She ignored him, injecting something into his forearm that knocked him out.

***

Steve was in the painful middle-land of an agonizing torment, bad enough to make him scream, but not intense enough to black him out.

His pain was infinite and he felt it on the smallest levels. His hair follicles stung, joints burned, his muscles contracted and if they were gripped by super human hands.

His vision flickered in and out, sometimes he saw the room filtered in blood red, or neon green, other times he saw the heat surrounding figures, he knew then that he’d lost his mind.

He crested another wave of pain, and as it broke, Steve felt the sweet relief of nothingness.

***

Steve came to and the pain was dull.

“Johnny?” He felt the same sense of comfort he always had in Jonathan’s presence, even though the other man was nowhere to be seen.

_Steve, you came!_

Steve could feel the other man’s agony. It was his fault Jonathan was here, in pain.

“Sorry Johnny. I’m sorry…”

The next wave of pain was tidal, and swept Steve’s consciousness away with it.

***

When Jonathan awoke, he wasn’t alone. Doctor Brenner and Doctor James were both stood at the end of his bed, reflective glasses firmly on. But even with the glasses on, Jonathan could see Dr. James had bruised eyes, and unless he was mistaken, a broken nose.

While he couldn’t go into their minds, he could still hear the muffled whispers of their thoughts if he focused closely.

“Jonathan, we need to know that you’re willing to work with us.” Dr. James sounded whiney.

Jonathan was done with them. “Here’s what I need, to get the hell out of here.”

“Some creatures have escaped one of the cracks. We’re sending a team. You’ll go with them. Protect them.”

“Where is Steve?” Jonathan asked serenely. Anger wasn’t getting him anywhere, so he was going to try charm.

“Steve? Steve who?” Dr. James shrugged.

An alarm went off in the distance and Brenner looked to the other doctor. “Go, see to whatever that is.”

Dr. James dashed out of the room.

“You were being so honest with me yesterday Doctor Brenner, don’t stop now,” Jonathan could hear the layers in his voice, could feel their pull.

“I don’t- Steve who-” He struggled against the words.

“Why don’t you take off those glasses, Doctor?”

“N-no.”

“They must be so uncomfortable.”

“Yes.”

“You’d feel so much better if you took them off.”

“Yes…” Dr. Brenner reached up and slid the glassed off his face with shaky hands.

Brenner was turning red, his veins bulging as he resisted.

“Look at me, Doctor.”

His face started to move.

_LOOK AT ME._

The doctor’s head snapped to the side and Jonathan fell into his mind.

He was looking down at Steve, strapped into a bed. He was pulling at the restraints yelling, but Jonathan couldn’t hear his words.

The briefcase was open in front of Brenner. Jonathan saw the vials clearly for the first time. There were six empty vials, and four labels were facing him.

MIND FLAYER

LICH

DROW

JUIBLEX

There were at least a dozen full vials in the case, but Jonathan only had time to see the one Dr. Brenner pulled out.

DEMOGORGON.

Without the slightest hesitation Brenner plunged the syringe into Steve’s neck and the teenager began to convulse.

Jonathan left Dr. Brenner’s mind.

“You shouldn’t have touched him,” Jonathan kept his rage in check, inside he was a furious storm, but he knew what he was capable of now, and losing control would only cause unnecessary harm.

_Release me._

Brenner unlocked Jonathan’s restraints.

He swung out of bed, brushing off where the leather had chaffed and broken skin.

_Get in the bed._

Jonathan tied the restraints around Brenner’s arms and feet, extra tight.

“A taste of your own medicine Brenner.” Jonathan looked down at the helpless doctor. “If you ever come near my family again, I’ll tell you to jump off a bridge.” He walked to the door and stopped. “The only reason you’re alive is because Eleven owns your kill, not me.”

Fear had left Jonathan’s body. Panic was absent. He had a purpose now: to rescue Steve and escape this place. He strode down the hallway.

Dr. James was outside the elevators waiting for one to arrive, he caught sight of Jonathan and fell down, trying to scramble away.

Jonathan felt his fear like it was a smell in the air. “Doctor James.”

“J-Jonathan.” He looked on the verge of begging for his life.

“You’re going to collect the briefcase with the serums for me, doctor. And I’m not even going to have to force you, am I?”

Dr. James ran, Jonathan knew his intention. The doctor was as scared as he ever had been in his life.

Once inside the elevator, he looked at all the buttons and floors. In the end Jonathan followed Steve’s thoughts down to the entrance hall, or at least he hoped he was following them.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

The atrium was full of armed men. Men with guns. Guns which were pointed right at him.

Across the hall the other set of elevators pinged. Half the soldiers turned. Between the tightly packed figures of the guards, Jonathan could see a man in the opposite elevator.

Steve.

A solider cocked his gun and Jonathan moved swiftly out of the elevator.

With a wave of his hand a dozen men fell to the floor, fast asleep.

He could hear the telltale noise of a fight on the other side of the guards, but he couldn’t spare any time to think about that now. Guns were going off and glass was shattering, covering everything in sharp chunks.

His head thrummed with pain, it jabbed at his eyeballs, rung in his ears. He continued walking forward at a steady pace, squinting as the pain worsened.

Each time a guard leveled his gun at Jonathan they would suddenly feel the urge to drop to the floor and play dead, but only play dead. Jonathan wouldn’t kill these men. It wasn’t his way.

A man ran at him. _Wall. Run._ The man careened into a wall head first, he was out cold before he hit the ground.

The crowd between the elevators was thinning.

Jonathan could feel Steve now, could see him, the last men between them dropped, and Steve picked one up, throwing him across the atrium and into the wall, sending a crack running up the marble.

They stared at each other, surrounded by a sea of unconscious bodies, wearing matching hospital gowns.

Steve was covered in sweat, and he was smoking slightly. His muscles were bulging and blood coated his hands. He looked glorious, and savage.

Jonathan felt light-headed., he was breathing heavy, his chest moving broadly.

They picked their way over the bodies, speeding up as they got closer until there was a feverish desperation in their movements.

They collided, their bodies hitting each other moments before their lips did. They devoured each other’s mouths. Neither closed their eyes, if they did, they were worried it might end, that they might wake up and realize this was just another dream.

It was like coming home after a long day. Sinking into a hot bath on a cold night. A cold bath on a hot afternoon. It was seconds, it was forever.

Jonathan pulled back and drank in the sight of Steve. “Beautiful.”

“I was just thinking the same.”

Jonathan picked out one of the whispers in his head, his eyes snapped to over Steve’s shoulder, where a guard had lifted himself up and pointed his gun at them. He pulled the trigger.

Steve pulled them down, but Jonathan flicked his hand. The man’s neck broke and he slouched to the ground.

“We need to leave,” Steve muttered.

“One second. I just need to pick something up.” The elevator behind Jonathan dinged. Dr. James stepped out, clutching the briefcase.

“W-what now?” he asked, shaking.

Steve held Jonathan by the waist, together they stood strong.

“Stay away from us.”

“Or we’ll kill you.”

“All of you.”

Jonathan took the briefcase and the pair walked out the shattered front doors.

Jonathan inhaled the crisp night air deeply. “Home?”

“Home,” Steve confirmed.


	12. Hyperlink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less wine, more writing weeow! 
> 
> Thanks for liking the story and stuff. 
> 
> I've almost finished writing the first draft. 
> 
> People are gonna die, someone just got their head cut off in like chapter 17, there are cooler bad guys. 
> 
> Phew. What a wild ride.

The last time they’d left the facility they’d walked home through the forest in daylight, on edge. Easy prey ready to be picked off. They were walking home through the forest again, this time at night, and this time, they were the predators.

“Do you hear that?” Steve asked.

“No.”

“Exactly.” Despite the fact the ground was covered in leaves and twigs, the made no noise as they walked over the forest floor. It was as if the silence of death covered their movements.

Steve could see well over a mile ahead, even though it was the middle of the night, it might as well have been daytime, for Steve’s eyes were perfectly attuned.

The first sign of something wrong came to Steve in the form of a smell. It was somewhere between cigarette smoke and decaying flowers. He put his arm out to stop Jonathan.

“There’s something out there.” Working on instinct alone Steve focused his eyes into the distance. He blinked. And when his eyes opened he saw the world lit up in shades of blue and red. Jonathan pulsed red, but the forest floor maintained a cool blue. He was seeing heat. He looked into the distance. He didn’t see any other red figures, instead he saw a shape moving, without color. It was neither blue nor red, but an absence of color.

Steve blinked again and the forest flashed up green, he could see even the smallest of details, the ridges on a leaf, each crevice in the trunk of a tree, he could even see the figure running away.

The other thoughts in his mind vanished.

Without hesitating, Steve leapt into a run, his feet gliding across the ground with a speed no human should have been capable of. He dodged trees and ducked under branches. But he wasn’t fast enough. He dropped onto all fours and tore past the trees.

He skidded to a halt, smelling the decaying scent. Standing up, on two limbs rather than four, he searched for the origin of the smell. Two lumps were on the ground. Steve blinked and saw heat. They were both light blue, but he couldn’t see any details. He blinked again and his regular eyesight returned, stumbling back.

There were two dead Demogorgon pups on the ground, torn to pieces.

Jonathan slipped next to Steve.

“Whatever that thing was,” Steve said, looking in the direction the heatless form had vanished, “It killed them both.”

“Could it have been another Demogorgon? An adult killing the pups for food?” Jonathan eyes darted around their surroundings, Steve knew the other man’s eyesight was much poorer than his new night vision, but Steve had no idea what other changes the serum had made to Jonathan.

Steve pulled at the pup carcasses. “No, this was a butchering.”

Thunder rolled, and even though neither could see beyond the thick canopy above them, they both felt the storm about to break.

“We can deal with this tomorrow, we need to get home.” Jonathan pulled him away.

Steve obeyed, and for the rest of the short walk, he was alert and ready to defend Jonathan.

They emerged from the forest just as the first drops of rain fell. Steve looked at Jonathan, whose head was tilted towards the sky, eyes closed.

“I didn’t think I feel the rain on my face ever again.”

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” Steve asked, the memory fondly entering his mind as he smelled the wet earthy scent of rain hitting forest floor.

Jonathan grinned. “It was literally last week.”

“I guess you’re right. It just seems like…you know. So much has happened.” Steve’s vision clouded. It had felt like he’d spent months without Jonathan. That time had stretched to torture him. He knew it must have been just as bad for Jonathan, spending all that time in the facility.

Jonathan hummed.

“I was just wondering…” Steve hesitated. “Wondering if you still felt the same.”

Jonathan laughed and hurt flashed in Steve’s heart.

Jonathan stopped walking. “You know while I was there, in that place, being tortured and changed, the only thing that got me through was thinking about escaping to my family.”

Steve nodded. “I’d never try to get in the way of you and your family.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “You _are_ my family, idiot.”

The slow warmth that filled Steve’s bones burned away any feeling of cold from the night. Steve felt something bubbling in his throat, he thought it might have been vomit for a second.

Steve blurted, “I love you, Jonathan.”

The pause was long enough to almost kill Steve. He looked to the other man, whose eyes were locked to his.  “I know.”

“What?” Steve was dumbfounded. Hardly the response he’d been hoping for.

“I can see into your mind now, feel what you feel. I know you love me.” Jonathan shrugged.

Steve looked unimpressed. “That sorta takes the excitement out of things.”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan said with a grin, “You can’t read my mind. So I guess you won’t know if I love you back.”

Steve tried to brush it off and act casual. “True.”

“I think though, that if you looked into my eyes, you’d be able to see for yourself.”

Steve did, he looked Jonathan dead in the eyes as the other man said, “I love you.” Jonathan leaned in and kissed Steve, their eyes flickered closed and they lost themselves in each other’s lips. It was just as their first kiss had been, nothing was familiar, everything was new, they were diving into this unknown together, an icy plunge into a lake.

Jonathan pulled away. “You have to stop kissing me in forests. It’s weird.”

They began walking again. “Where would rather I kiss you?” Steve asked with a smirk.

“Right now, we’re about a five-minute walk from my bed so…” Jonathan trailed.

Steve’s pace picked up noticeably.

The Byers house came into view and Jonathan sighed.

The chief’s truck was outside next to Joyce’s car. “Should we sneak to bed and talk to them in the morning?” Steve asked.

Jonathan shook his head. “Mom and the chief are in the lounge. Besides, imagine how mad she’d be if she found out we’d snuck in and not told her.”

“Good point Byers, I love Joyce, but sometimes I get the sense she wouldn’t blink twice if she had to break a nose.” Steve both admired and feared her for that.

They reached the porch. Jonathan grasped Steve’s hand, in his other hand swung the case of serums he’d stolen from the facility. “You ready for this?”

Steve pulled a face. “God no. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

Jonathan bent, sliding the spare key out from underneath the mat and twisting it in the lock. He pushed the door open and inhaled the smell of his home.

Steve had only been gone two days, but he felt an extreme comfort walking back into the house.  
It must have been almost overwhelming for Jonathan after his long stint away.

Joyce and Hopper were on the couch, Hopper was gone to the world, but Joyce had her eyes cracked open sleepily.  “Jonathan?” She blinked. “Jonathan!” Her yell woke up Hopper, who jumped and held up an imaginary gun.

Joyce scrambled off the couch and into Jonathan’s arms. “Oh Jonathan.” She sniffled into his shoulder. “We-we thought you were d-d-dead.”

“I’m fine Mom, I’m fine.” Jonathan’s tears matched his mother’s.

Hopper, recovered from his abrupt wake up, came to Steve, and instead of shaking his hand, hugged the teenager. Steve’s head was next to Hopper’s, and for a moment Steve forgot himself. He heard a thrumming that sent his throat constricting. His mouth was watering as if taunted by the offer of ice-cold lemonade on a sweltering day. He looked at Hopper from the side and zeroed in on the vein in his neck. The thrumming. His mouth spiked with pain as his fangs sharpened.

Hopper was a friend. A good friend. A mentor. But how good would his blood taste. How thrilling would it be to rip into his throat and bathe in his blood.

Steve recognized what he was thinking and flinched away from Hopper, who hadn’t seemed to notice. But Steve caught Jonathan’s eyes over his mother’s back, and knew that the other man had heard it all in his head.

Joyce pulled back from Jonathan, composing herself. Her tears stopped and the relief left her face, to be replaced by anger a second later as he turned on Steve.

“Steven Harrington, if you _ever_ pull a move like that again, I’ll bury you myself.” Despite her fury, she hugged Steve and kissed his cheek. Steve tried to smile at her, but he felt sick to his stomach.

They sat down, Steve on a couch with Jonathan, Hopper with Joyce.

The air charged, waiting for someone, anyone, to start the conversation. No one did. Steve and Jonathan looked around the room, ignoring Joyce and Hopper’s eyes.

They were saved momentarily from any explanation when the door to the hallway burst open and Will ran through. “Jonathan! Steve!” Will launched himself at them both on the couch.

“Hey Little Byers.” Steve ruffled his hair as he shuffled between the two older guys on the couch.

Eleven was stood in the doorway, looking at them with squinted eyes. “Different.” She said, not moving closer.

Joyce and Hopper were back to looking at them. “Different?” Joyce asked, fear coloring her voice.

“Different.” Steve confirmed with a nod.

Joyce paled. “How different?”

Jonathan answered, “Very.”

The silence hung in the air again. “I think that’s enough for tonight, we can do this tomorrow. Both of you look like you could sleep for a week.”

“We have a lot to tell you,” Jonathan said. “About Brenner, the Department of Energy.”

“Tomorrow,” Hopper’s voice was firm.

Grateful for the chance to escape and put off the inevitable conversation, Jonathan groaned to his feet, said goodnight to everyone, and sauntered to his bedroom, Steve following closely behind.

“Jonathan,” Joyce called, sounding guilty. “I’m sorry Jonathan but you ought to know.” She rubbed her face. “Nancy, she’s on the run, Brenner’s got to some of the deputies, but don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she soothed.

With that weighing heavily on his mind, Jonathan pushed the door to his room open. Just how he left it, bed unmade, clothes strewn across the floor. He bent down and slid the serum case under his bed, hoping nobody would find it until he decided what to do with it.

Steve stripped down to his underwear and got into bed first. Jonathan followed moments later, in just his pajama pants.

Rain was lashing the windows with irregular sheets now, lulling the room, and both teenagers, into a soft rhythm.

***

Steve and Jonathan were wide awake.

They were both laying on their sides, just staring at each other. Steve would occasionally reach out and touch Jonathan’s face, and every now and then Jonathan would stroke his way down Steve’s arms.

They’d been like this for hours, listening to the rain get heavier and heavier.

Steve spoke for the first time, his throat dry, “Everyone thought you were dead.”

Jonathan brought his hand up to Steve’s hair and ran his fingers through it. “But you didn’t?”

“Never.”

Jonathan tangled his fingers in the back of Steve’s head, pulled him close, and gently kissed his lips, just once.

“Johnny, the time you were gone…”

“Mhmm?” Jonathan hummed absently.

“I know it’s painful, and too soon, but-”

Jonathan’s voice was empty of any emotion, “I can’t explain what happened to me in there.”

Steve nodded, put out, he faced the ceiling.

Jonathan cupped his chin and brought it back to face him. “I could show you.” He paused. “But it would be painful. You’d feel everything I felt. The pain would be unbearable.”

“And you could- you could see what happened to me?” Steve asked in a small voice.

Jonathan nodded. “But I’ll only do it if you answer one question.” Steve waited and Jonathan continued. “Why? Why do you want to see?”

Steve didn’t answer.

“I’ll find out anyway.” Jonathan wasn’t smug, just matter-of-fact.

“I…I need to know what I caused,” Steve admitted.

Jonathan squeezed Steve. “You didn’t cause anything. You won’t feel better by torturing yourself with my memories.”

“Johnny, I need this. Please,” Steve pleaded.

Jonathan nodded, closed his eyes, and when he opened them Steve was staring into full white irises. It whited out Steve’s own vision and he fell through Jonathan’s mind. And at the same time, Jonathan dove deep into Steve’s recent past.

Through a flood of visions Steve saw Jonathan kidnapped.

He felt the splintering torment of the serum entering Jonathan’s body, moving its way up his arms like liquid fire, setting the nerves behind his eyes alight, and entering his brain. It burned him alive, healed him, and burned him again. The serum kept him alive, even as he screamed for death. Each second stretched into an hour of pain. And soon Jonathan stopped begging to die, and started to harden. Steel only becomes durable once it’s been forged over and over, and this was what the serum did to him, it was forging a new Jonathan.

He saw the crazed fever dreams Jonathan endured.

Jonathan clinging to the images of him, using his moments with Steve to pull him through the cold and the dark.

He stood by Jonathan as he met future Jonathan and Steve felt dizzy, not from the memory, but through sheer confusion of paradoxes and science.

He watched Jonathan’s powers develop. Reading thoughts. Controlling rats. Freezing an awful woman. Feeling the rush of power as he almost killed her.

Brenner explained the trails. His ambition to create individuals capable of defending this dimension. He thought he was honorable, pioneering. The damage he left in his wake was necessary.

His ends justified his cruel means.

He watched Jonathan escape.

He saw himself through Jonathan’s eyes. Jonathan thought he was glorious, he thought he was savage.

He felt what Jonathan felt when they kissed under the sprinklers.

The slowing and speeding of time. Jonathan felt home in Steve’s arms.

They pulled back to the present, in bed together. Jonathan leaned in, his eyes still frosted white, and they slipped into Steve’s mind together.

The first night Jonathan had been taken, the desperation Steve felt, the frantic thoughts that chased themselves around his mind until he passed out.

Eleven got into the bathtub, pushing herself underneath the water. She hadn’t been able to find him, of course she hadn’t, the Facility was protected now, it would take an exceptionally powerful person to project their mind out from within its walls.

Jonathan watched as Steve patrolled the town, discussing Barb and guilt with Nancy.

Joyce handed him the pictures of the two of them, Steve buried himself into Joyce’s shoulder, crying.

He waded through the memories of Steve and Hopper cruising the town, visiting the quarry.

Will and Steve played video games at the arcade.

He watched Steve in the dead of night with Jonathan’s name of his lips.

Steve entered the facility.

He sat down in front of Dr. Brenner and shook a deal. His humanity for Jonathan’s freedom.

He felt the serum enter Steve’s body. It started in his arms, filling the tissue in his muscles and pulling it apart until nothing was left, and then replacing it cell by cell. His arms, his legs, his chest, each muscle stitching itself back together, bigger, stronger.

And then the serum crept through his veins, through his neck and to behind his eyes. It burned out his vision and blinded him. His eyes were dead and useless, and then with unbearable slowness, rebuilt them from scratch, his new eyes capable of things he’d never dreamed.

His gums ripped open and a fresh set of fangs grew in seconds. His nails sharpened into claws, and back again.

The serum had made him a hunter, an extraordinary killer, the apex predator.

Jonathan watched Steve tear his way out of his room, killing the guards that tried to stop him, in awe as Steve blew up one of the labs with a chemical explosion.

He saw Steve drop through the elevator shaft.

He saw himself through Steve’s eyes.

Beautiful and terrifying, that’s what Steve had thought of him. He felt embarrassed and elated.

They fell out of the memory-scape once more and landed back in bed, both panting.

“All caught up then,” Jonathan breathed.

“Jonathan, your serum…”

“Yours was just as painful.”

Steve’s eyes were lit from within. “Your mind, it’s limitless.”

Jonathan clutched Steve’s bicep. “It’s made you so strong. And fast.”

Steve was quiet, “It’s made me a killer.”

“It’s made us both killers.” Jonathan thought about the neck of the man who’d pointed a gun at them. Jonathan sighed and rolled over so he was on his back. “I never thought I was coming back. I was gone. I almost lost myself in there. In my own head,” he choked. “You got me through.”

Steve started rubbing Jonathan’s chest as the other man became tense.

“And now I’m back and I can’t bear it.”

“Bear what?”

“The voices, Steve. I have to hold them off…all the time. It’s exhausting.”

Steve had only caught a glimpse of Jonathan’s struggle, he couldn’t relate, not really. But he imagined it was the same pain he’d restrained from biting Hopper’s neck. They were both resisting their new urges, fighting their instincts. Jonathan was right, it was exhausting.

“Does it help when they’re sleeping?” Steve asked.

Jonathan nodded. ‘They’re not really thinking while they’re sleeping. It’s easier to block.”

Steve thought for a moment. “So right now, you’re causing yourself physical pain, because I’m around you?”

Jonathan flipped back over in a flash, fear in his eyes. ‘Don’t leave me.”

“Never.” Steve held him tight. “I was going to suggest that you don’t fight it.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve shrugged. “Don’t fight to not hear my thoughts, I’ll let you in.”

Jonathan shook his head. “You deserve your privacy.”

“Jonathan Byers. Look at me. I don’t have anything to hide from you. If it doesn’t make you feel weird, and if it _helps_ , then shut up and do it.”

“Sure?” Jonathan was hesitant.

Steve rolled his eyes at Jonathan, finally happy to be returning the gesture.

Jonathan let the walls around his mind drop and felt instant relief.

_Dumb Byers, good thing he’s cute, because he sure ain’t smart._

“You think I’m cute?”

Steve scoffed. “Didn’t have to read my mind for that one, did you?”

Now that he wasn’t resisting his powers, the pain in Jonathan’s mind ebbed away until it was gone.

It wasn’t even annoying, listening to Steve’s thoughts. In fact, it was quite entertaining. Steve’s mind didn’t work like his own, and Jonathan liked that. One second Steve would be thinking about snowmen on skateboards, and the next he’d be wondering what came first, the color orange, or the fruit orange.

Steve noticed his smile, and his thoughts turned. Steve imagined Jonathan naked, splayed out on the bed, looking up at up through thick lashes.

“Oh yes, this is going to be a whole heap of fun!” Steve smirked.

They both laughed and relaxed, sinking into the bed.

“What do we tell other people, about…” Jonathan tapped his head.

“Whatever we want, I guess. Your mom should probably know the truth. She’s been so worried, and she’ll work it out before long anyway. The kids, they’ll love this. Nancy’s gonna flip.”

“Nancy…” Jonathan said.

Steve’s grip went tight. “She’ll be fine. I bet she’s just at a friend’s, or she’ll be nose-deep to a book in the library.”

Jonathan relaxed a little. “How do we even start the conversation? He guys, quick update, I can read minds and Steve, well Steve is now part Demogorgon, so he’s super-strong and super-fast, and even has thermal vision.”

Steve rumbled with laughter. “We don’t want your mom to have a heart attack.”

They lulled into the quiet of their breathing, letting the steady drone of the rain comfort them. Jonathan rolled over to face the wall and Steve traced patterns across his back.

“Can you feel it?” Steve whispered, unsure if Jonathan was even still awake.

Jonathan let out a long exhale through is nose. “I feel it.” He didn’t need to ask what Steve meant.

They both felt the chill at the tips of their bones, the darkness lurking just underneath their skin, dormant, but waiting. They could feel the Upside Down like a phantom limb. It was the price they’d paid for their powers.

They would always be bound to it, to the other dimension.

Steve kissed Jonathan’s neck and they fell asleep.

***

The sun would usually have been lightening the sky, but black clouds were spread across the sky.

The Byers house was silent. Not the strained silence of the last week, but a fitful quiet. Satisfied. For the first time in many nights, the Byers house was whole.

In the lounge the fire grate was cold but the TV was still on, muted. The police chief snored softly on the couch, Joyce Byers laid against him, his arm wrapped around her.

The remains of a late hot chocolate session littered the kitchen table. Half-drunk mugs of cocoa and biscuit crumbs grew stale on the tablecloth. The butt of a cigarette smoldered in the ashtray.

Will Byers slept soundlessly in his bed, while on the other side of the room, on an air mattress, Eleven did a perfect imitation of her adopted father’s snoring.

In Jonathan’s room both men were asleep peacefully, their faces smooth, their concerns gone.

And just outside their bedroom window was a _very_ wet and _very_ angry brunette.

She knocked on the window lightly, but when neither guy moved, she knocked harder.

Jonathan stirred first, which caused Steve to wake. They shifted up and looked through the window.

“Are you gonna let me in, or leave me to drown in this fucking storm?” Nancy Wheeler was unimpressed.


	13. The Veins of Hawkins

_After many years, Bishop had traced a complicated pattern over his map of Hawkins._

_He’d spent years scouring the town, throwing small metal filings into the air._

_They landed in neat rows, and it was these row that Bishop traced onto his maps._

_These were the veins of Hawkins, and he followed them closely._


	14. Maple Street Hooligan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a job. But like not a full time one, chill out, I'm gonna finish this fic. 
> 
> I've decided to earn enough money to afford wine and brie, and then spend 4 days a week writing.
> 
> I hope ya'll like Nancy as much as I like writing her. What a boss bitch.
> 
> Anyway, I'm a drunk version of Lydia to be honest.

It had been a tough week for Nancy.

Sure no one was having the time of their lives, but the teenage girl was suffering. Not physically. She was exhausted by being around liars and secrets. But mostly, she suffered because she was surrounded by idiots.

It all started a few days after Jonathan had gone missing. Less and less scientists would be in the lab. They dropped off quickly, and whenever Nancy asked, she was told they were being brought in on another project.

What project could be more important than closing the gates to a hostile dimension, Nancy didn’t know, she didn’t really care either. In truth, the other scientists usually just got in her way and asked dumb questions that slowed her down. On the upside, it meant there was no one to watch her in the lab, so she could steal as much equipment as she could hide in her bag.

She’d started taking some of the instruments, the facility’s technology was beyond anything on the market, and Nancy was building a lab of her own in her bedroom. That’s where her real science happened. She was working on a weapon, but she couldn’t quite manage the finer science.

A strange development had been Dr. James, who made frequent visits to the lab Nancy worked in. Some days he’d bring her a coffee, others he’d bring her flowers. She accepted them politely. But deep down, there was something about Dr. James that felt…off. Nancy, however, was not above using her charm to get what she needed. And Dr. James had a lot of information just waiting to be extracted.

Today he handed her a box of Belgian chocolates from his satchel, smiled, and turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said, “stay and share them with me? Or I’ll eat them all and get terribly fat, and it will be all your fault.”

Dr. James laughed, lighting up, and pulled up a stool at Nancy’s workbench. “How’s the progress?” he asked, helping himself to a chocolate.

Nancy shrugged, waving her hand over the table, on top of all the paper and equipment was a list of all the cracks in the dimension and their locations around Hawkins. “We’ve hit a brick wall. We can stop the cracks from growing. But we can’t seal them without Eleven, and I’m pretty sure the strain is killing her.”

Dr. James nodded. “We need some out of the box thinking, right?”

“Sure. I just think it would be a lot easier if I had the whole team here to help me.” Nancy tried to not let the lie show on her face.

Dr. James avoided her eyes. “Ah. Yes.”

“Do you have any idea when they’ll all be back?” Nancy fluttered her lashes, she was going all in.

The doctor’s eyes glazed over. “Hm? What?” He snapped back. “Oh, no I don’t they’re so busy.”

“Really? What are they working on?” She touched his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t really say.” He looked away.

“We’re in this together, right?” Nancy smiled at him. “Maybe I can help.”

Dr. James’ eyes locked with Nancy’s and he was a goner. “Help? Sure. I’m sure you could. I’m stuck with a bit of genome mapping right now.”

Mapping.

She looked back at the table, at the locations of the cracks in the dimensions.

Nancy grabbed her bag, leaving Dr. James looking startled. “I’ve got to run. I have to check something, right now.” She rolled up the gate list and dashed out of the lab.

***

It only took her fifteen minutes to reach the library on her bike. With Jonathan gone and Steve out of his mind, she’d had to seek an alternate mode of travel, and at least on the bike she was keeping fit for any monster hunting that might happen.

She took the stairs down to the records room, waving to the old doddery librarian at the desk. “Excuse me ma’am, where would I find the maps of Hawkins?”

The woman took a while to respond, it seemed her mind worked slower than her movements. It was painful for Nancy to watch, she loved old people, but she was full of adrenalin, and if Mrs. Library didn’t hurry up, she’d scream.

“Second shelf on the left,” the librarian said eventually, sounded tired at the effort.

Nancy tried to not run, this was a library after all. She reached the shelf and pulled out some of the maps.

There were new glossy, full-colored maps of Hawkins, and ancient tatty ones drawn on parchment, but she eventually found a basic black and white map of the town from about ten years ago.

After she checked to make sure the librarian wasn’t in sight, she pulled out a marker. “Library gods, please forgive me,” she whispered.

She followed the list of gates, marking each one as a cross on the map, when she was finished the map was covered in scattered crosses.

Standing, she looked down at the map from above, hoping that the answer would jump out at her. That she would see the pattern emerge. She’d thought for sure this was the answer, but it didn’t make any sense.

She pulled other maps. The map she’d marked on was thin, so she could lay it on top of another map and see through, see if it aligned with anything.

It didn’t fit with underground rivers, nor with roads, or fault lines. But that sparked another thought in the teenager’s mind. What if it _did_ match fault lines, just not ones in the earth. She fumbled through the paper, it was a mess of landscapes and graphs, but she found it.

The old tatty parchment. It was dated at the bottom, late 1700’s. There was a name scribbled in the bottom corner that she couldn’t quite make out, it could have been Sally, or maybe Salter. Surely nothing that old could hold the key. She didn’t care who’d drawn it, or when, only that it was full of lines, thin lines that crisscrossed over the town. There was no legend to describe what the lines were, no title, just an illegible name.

Nancy positioned the parchment over her map this time, and each thick black cross was visible. Each one landed directly on one of the lines. This was the pattern; this map held the key.

She rolled both her maps up into a neat coil and went to stow them in her bag, only when she opened the satchel it didn’t have any of her things in. Her gun wasn’t there, nor were her keys or her wallet.

Instead there were a number of thick files.

She knew she shouldn’t look. This must have been Dr. James’ bag. In her rush to leave the lab, she’d picked up the wrong one. Curiosity won out and she pulled the files out and laid them on the now tidy table.

The first file she opened was labelled in big black writing ‘Project IDM’, and below that in brackets was ‘inter-Dimensional Merge’. She flipped through the first few pages, picking up on words like ‘genome match’ and ‘failed candidates’.

She got to the back of the file, and attached with a paperclip were a dozen photos. The first made Nancy’s stomach churn. It was a woman laid on a metal morgue table. Nancy labelled her woman, but she was far from it. Something had happened to her, her bones were out of shape, her eyes were ringed with a red stain, as if blood had leaked from them. On the back of the polaroid there were some notes: ‘Delwyn Rhodes. Forty-two. O+. FAILURE.’

The name Delwyn rang a distant bell in Nancy’s mind but she couldn’t place it. The rest of the photos were similar, some worse, some better. She didn’t bother reading the notes on the rest of them, their clinical tone made it worse. None of the faces were identifiable.

She moved on to the next file marked ‘CANDIDATES’. This was full of list after list of names. Some names she recognized, most she didn’t. On the last page she found three names that sent her pulse scattering.

Jonathan Byers. Circled in green highlighter.

Steven Harrington. Circled in yellow.

Nancy Wheeler. Circled in yellow.

Dozens of questions race their way across her thoughts. Candidates for what? This IDM project? What made them candidates? Why was Jonathan’s name circled in green? What did that mean? And what was yellow? Why were she and Steve circled?

The questions continued as she picked up the third and final file. ‘STRAINS’. Each page was titled a different stain, and Dr. James’ handwritten notes covered the margins.

 

MIND FLAYER (Complete Success)

Source: Tunnel Spores.

_‘JB? Mind. Inhabits. Psionic. Reading / controlling?’_

 

JUIBLEX (Partial Success)

Source: Exploration Team Omega.

_‘Acid. Unstable. Soldier.TH.’_

 

DEMOGORGON (Multiple Failures)

Source: Various captured.

_‘Slipstream? Strong. Beast. Uncontrollable’_

 

BEHOLDER (Not Trialed)

Source: Scout Team Alpha (Deceased).

_‘Unknown. Potential precog abilities.’_

 

DISPLACER (Not Trialed)

Source: Sample recovered from Bravo Team corpses.

_‘Feline. Claws.’_

 

LICH (DO NOT TRIAL AGAIN)

Source: The Columbus Event.

**N.b. Resurrection not advised under any circumstance.**

_‘bh. Destroy all samples. Cannot contain.’_

 

DROW (First Success)

Source: Surrendered Sample.

 _‘Sunlight resistant. Animals._ ’

 

Nancy pushed back into her chair. She was piecing together the files and the picture she was making wasn’t filling her with any sense of success. Fear. Nausea. That’s what filled her now. The scientists were taking DNA from creatures in the upside down. Synthesizing serums. And experimenting with them on humans.

She slammed the file shut. This was too dangerous, even for her. She packed the files away and closed the bag, stuffing the maps into her coat pocket, once again, silently asking forgiveness for crumpling what wasn’t hers. 

The librarian was waiting by the exit. “I saw what you were doing, now put those papers back, and leave.”

For a second Nancy was about to do as she was told, but she’d never really liked librarians, and in the long run, Nancy’s research was probably going to save this old lady’s life. “Out the way Mildred.”

The librarian was aghast. “My name’s not Mildred!”

Nancy’s voice went quiet, “Get out of my way, or I’ll break your hip.”

The librarian shuffled out of the way, hand covering her mouth. “I’m going to call your mother!”

“Oh piss off, Mildred.” Nancy ran passed. The last thing she heard was the librarian screeching about how her name wasn’t even Mildred.

Nancy would have laughed, but she didn’t have time for this. She needed to replace the bag before Dr. James knew it was missing.

Sweat covered her body as she pulled up to the facility. She’d ridden hard, hard enough that she hadn’t had time to process or question what she’d discovered.

She sent an anxious smile to the receptionist, took the elevator down to her lab, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her bag under her workbench. She switched them back out and relaxed. But she wasn’t done. Her memory was awful, and she wasn’t about to forget the details. She flipped open the third file, and copied all the notes about the strains.

As she finished scribing the last page, the lab door opened. She shoved the papers back in the file, the file in the bag, and dropped it onto the floor.

Dr. James made his way towards Nancy looking frazzled. “Nancy! You’re back.”

Nancy smiled at him, hoping she didn’t look too conspicuous, covered in sweat and a table full of loose paper. Dr. James scoured the table and as smoothly as she could, Nancy shuffled her notes together and put them in a blank folder. “You okay doctor?” She asked, trying to distract his keen eyes.

“Yes. Sorry, I think I might have left my bag here.” His eyes were still locked onto Nancy’s notes.

“Did you?” Nancy feigned looking around the room, and then glanced under the table. “There it is!”

Dr. James reluctantly looked away and stooped to grab his satchel. “You didn’t…” he trailed off.

Nancy ramped up the innocent look. “Didn’t what?” It wasn’t working this time. There was something steely in the doctor’s eyes and he wasn’t buying into her charm at all.

“You didn’t look in my bag, did you?” his tone was deadly, and for the first time Nancy was worried. She let her eyes flick to the table quickly, looking for a weapon. Nothing. Except a tripod, and she guessed she could stab him through the eye if she really had to.

“Of course not! Didn’t even know you left it,” she brightened her smile.

Dr. James didn’t return it, he made to leave, but looked over his shoulder at the door. “Did you find it, find what you were looking for?”

Nancy’s smile was gone. “Yes. I think I did.”

Dr. James nodded and left.

***

Nancy spent the next few days ruminating on her discovery. It was too soon to take it to Hopper, or even Steve, both of them were far too busy, and really what did she know? There were trials going on. Unhelpful information. The facility had samples of other dimensional creatures. Unhelpful information. She’d found an old map with a pattern of lines that matched the cracks in the dimensional wall. Unhelpful information.

None of this was going to help get Jonathan back, so it wasn’t a priority.

She went to the facility, she pottered about the lab, business as usual. Dr. James didn’t visit her anymore, and when she saw him in the hallways he nodded curtly and kept walking.

Nancy was eating lunch in the cafeteria by herself. Steve hadn’t come back to school when it had reopened after the gymnasium attack. All her friends had vanished now. Barb was dead. Jonathan was missing. Steve was slowly disappearing right in front of her eyes. She felt loneliness she hadn’t known for years.

She’d gone the whole day yesterday without speaking once. She went to school, where people treated her as a pariah. They whispered about the night of the party. “That Wheeler girl was involved you know. With those… _things_.” She went to the lab, where she worked alone. By the time she got home her family were asleep and the house was quiet. It was suffocating.

On Wednesday she’d been eating lunch in a toilet cubicle, it wasn’t sanitary, but she couldn’t handle the stares anymore. She was trying not to let it get to her. She really was. It was overwhelming. The only two people who really understood were lost to her for now. She’d been about to finish her sandwich when a group of chicks walked in.

“Jesus. I think Mr. Clarke may actually be the most boring human to ever exist,” one of them said, Nancy didn’t recognize her voice. There was a smattering of laughter.

“I swear the only person that doesn’t hate his classes is Wheeler,” another girl snickered.

“Ugh. Wheeler. I heard she’s lost it, like gone full crazy.”

“For sure,” the first girl agreed. “All that reading books has turned her into a know-it-all bitch.”

“Never liked her,” the second said.

“I heard that her and Byers and Harrington are in some kind of three-way sex club,” the third added.

“Jessica! You can’t say that!”

“Can if it’s true,” Jessica argued back.

“Where is Byers? I haven’t seen him in a few days. Or Harrington,” the first again.

The second spoke next, whispering, “So here’s the thing. You remember Barb. Barb Holland?” There were two sounds of affirmation. “Well, she went missing last year, didn’t she? Last seen by Nancy Wheeler. And now look, Jonathan Byers, gone. Last seen by Nancy Wheeler. And who knows, maybe Harrington’s gone as well.”

“What are you saying?” That was the first girl again. Nancy rolled her eyes, definitely not the smartest plastic in the barbie aisle.

“Well you know, if all these people keep going missing around her…maybe she’s the one that’s making them go missing…” she trailed off. None of the girls said a thing.

Until Nancy threw her cubicle door open with an almighty bang, and strolled out into the bathroom. She eyed them, she’d seen them around, but didn’t recognize their names. They were all white as bone, stricken faces adding to the effect.

The ring leader, this Jessica, purple-rimmed glasses and a vile expression on her face, went rigid under Nancy’s sharp eyes.

Nancy turned from them and checked herself out in the mirror, without looking at them she said, “Shouldn’t you ladies be off? You wouldn’t want to go… _missing_ would you?”

You’d have thought there were Olympic sprinters with the speed all three girls left the bathroom. Nancy stayed, looking into her own eyes in the mirror, she leaned on the basin for support. She could see the exhaustion in her own face, her eyes were dim, her skin waxy, and the bags under her eyes were purpling.

“Pull your shit together Wheeler,” she said to herself. “Your boys need you.” She grabbed her bag, swung it over her shoulder, and entered the corridor, walking straight into Mr. Clarke.

“Hey Nancy,” he greeted her.

“Hey Scott.”

“Mr. Clarke,” he corrected her, disbelieving.

“Sure Scott.” Nancy started to walk away from him but stopped. “Scott!” She called after the teacher. “Mr. Clarke.”

He turned and waited for her to catch up. “Yes?”

“I’ve got a question, science related. Ish.” Nancy reached him.

He gestured his head down the hallway. “Walk and talk, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

They set off down the hallway. “Hypothetically, would it be possible to magnetically charge something and have it retain its magnetic properties even as a projectile, once it was no longer connected to the source of the magnetic charge?”

The science teacher looked at her dubiously. “Nancy what on earth is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” She was impatient, answer the question and move on thanks.

“You’ve been all over the place lately. You’re not paying attention in class, you just take notes on god knows what, your friends are noticeably absent and you’ve become a withdraw person. I’m worried about you Nancy, and just before, I could swear I saw three seniors running out of the girl’s toilet looking scared to death. And now here you are, asking me about weaponizing magnetic charges.”

“Is it possible?” Nancy ignored the rest of his concerns.

Mr. Clarke shook his head, defeated. “I suppose, that if you charged it with enough electricity, enough so that the electricity would remain after disconnection then sure it’s possible. But you’d need an electromagnet more powerful than anything that exists.”

“But I could build one.” Nancy was already thinking, her mind far away from Mr. Clarke and his trivial questions.

“Nancy I’m worried about you,” he repeated.

Nancy pulled back. “Don’t be. I’m going to be fine.”

“You remind me of your brother sometimes, him and his friends asked me all sorts of questions last year. Is this about…about the coyote attack?” he asked softly. “You saved a lot of lives that night.”

Nancy scoffed. “People still died, Scott. People still went missing.”

“That’s not on you. That’s on the wild, those coyotes killed those kids.”

Nancy leveled him with a stare. “If you really truly believe that coyotes killed those people, you’re delusional Scott.”

The teacher balked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Then piece it together Scott. If a twelve-year-old can work it out, so can you. Have fun at your…whatever you’re doing.” Nancy headed for the door to the carpark.

“Funeral. I’m headed to a funeral.” Scott’s voice lacked emotion.

Nancy shrugged. “Who’s dead now?”

“When did you become so cold Nancy?”

She turned and had to struggle to keep her voice level, “When? When I had to bury my friend’s brother, who came back, when I was hunted, when I became a hunter. Because if I don’t become this person Mr. Clarke, people like you will be slaughtered.” Nancy knew it wasn’t his fault, and that she was projecting her anger, frustration, loneliness, grief, she was projecting it all onto him.

Mr. Clarke didn’t know what to say, he breathed slowly. “Mrs. Rhodes.” He said.

“What?” Nancy snapped, confused.

“The lunch lady. She died. Mrs. Rhodes.”

“Sorry for your loss,” she didn’t sound it.

“It _is_ a loss. Delwyn was a lovely lady.” Mr. Clarke turned and swept away.

Delwyn.

“Delwyn,” Nancy yelled after him. “Forty-two. Blood type O+.” Mr. Clarke looked back but Nancy was gone. Another piece slotted itself into the puzzle. Enough that she knew what she had to do. She had to get away from the facility and the Department of Energy. This was them. It was all them. The missing people, the half-beasts, the Inter-Dimensional Merge was a project featuring the residents of Hawkins, against their will, and with a very unhappy ending.

She had to get away from the scientists and the facility. Which is why she began peddling as fast as she could, with one destination in mind. The Department of Energy.

***

It was probably in her head, but this time when Nancy walked through the halls of the facility she felt like she was being watched. She tried to act natural, but even she knew that she was skittish. There was a noose tightening around them all, and she felt it now more than ever.

Her lab was empty when she arrived, she made her way to the storage closet. She threw a bunch of things together. A prototype generator that was lighter than a bag of flour, some rare magnetic materials that she could only guess the origin of, a bunch of wires, and some things that looked cool but she wasn’t sure of their use. She loaded it all into her spare duffle bag, it was heavy, but she wasn’t a delicate teenager anymore.

Things were going smoothly, which was why when she exited the storage closet, her stomach dropped. Dr. James stood in the middle of the lab, watching her intently, holding a file in one hand, his other hand behind his back, hiding something.

Nancy knew there was no point in pretending. “Let me leave, Edmond.”

“Or what?” his voice was silky.

Nancy reached for her satchel, digging around for her gun, and with another sinking sensation, she realized it wasn’t there.

“Looking for this?” Dr. James waved her gun in the air. “When you took my bag the other day, I decided to have a quick look in yours. Now what’s a little girl like you doing with a gun like this?”

Little? Little girl? Nancy didn’t let her rage show. “Let me leave,” she repeated.

Dr. James smiled. Not the warm smile he usually used on her, this was the leer of someone who knew he’d won. “I don’t think so Miss. Wheeler.”

“If you don’t let me go-” Nancy wasn’t interested in what he was saying, she just wanted him focused on her while she searched frantically for a way out. She was probably faster than him, she could duck around him and run, but she’d have to drop the bag, she couldn’t run with all this equipment. And she’d only get down a few hallways before the doctor raised an alarm. Then she’d be dead.

She could throw the magnets at him, they’d probably leave a decent mark. But then he’d shoot, and she’d be dead.

And should couldn’t die. She had to tell someone, she had to let Hopper know what was going on.

“What?” Dr. James said with a laugh. “What will happen? No one knows you’re here. Jim Hopper wouldn’t risk pissing off the department to come and save you, even if he did know you were here. The Harrington boy? From what I hear he’s about as much use as a vegetable these days. And then of course…there’s Jonathan.”

Nancy snapped to attention. “Jonathan? What have you done with him?”

The doctor’s smile flashed. “Evolution little girl.”

“Call me little girl one more time.” Nancy let the bag fall off her shoulder, it thunked to the ground.

Dr. James laughed manically. “What are you going to do? I have the gun, and what do you have…little girl?”

Nancy vaulted across the table, sliding to the other side, the doctor was too stunned, too slow. But she’d done this before, she was a seasoned fighter. She slapped the gun out of his hand with one swift move, and with her right, she balled her fist, and in that fist she let everything collect. Her loneliness, the girls at school, her parent’s refusal to see what was right in front of them, the guilt she felt at Barb’s death, her raw hatred for the man in front of her.

The crack of Dr. James’ nose breaking was the sweetest sound Nancy had ever heard. He let out a scream and fell, clutching at his face which was streaming with blood. She picked up the gun from the ground and checked it.

“You didn’t even flick the safety off, amateur.” She pointed the gun at the doctor and cocked it. “In the supply closet.”

The doctor whimpered but didn’t move.

Nancy placed the gun to the back of his head. “Now.” He got up clumsily, still trying to stem the flow of blood from his nostrils.

Once in the closet, Nancy cable-tied the handles together. It would be hours before someone found him, hopefully days. She picked up her things, snatching the file Dr. James had dropped, stowing her gun once more, and left the lab for the last time. No one gave her a second glance as she walked the corridors.

She tried to not to let the disgust show on her face. Everyone working here, everyone who knew what was really going on, they were all accountable. But one person couldn’t take them all on. Not today. She smiled, waved, and sped towards the lobby.

There she was, that cheerful, always happy, insufferable front desk lady. Nancy imagined her name was something stupid, like Chantelle. She waved at her and lifted her card to swipe out of the door.

The light flashed red.

“Everything alright sweetie?” Chantelle asked.

Nancy ignored her and tried to swipe out the door again. This time it made a loud buzzing.

“You alright, sweetie?” Chantelle tried again.

Nancy rolled her eyes, turned and pulled her gun. “Why do you people think you can give me pet names, you want a pet name, Chantelle? I’m gonna call you Donald, because you should duck.” Nancy fired two shots above Chantelle’s head, and the receptionist dropped to the floor.

She fired into the glass door, shattering it, and stepped over the frame. She could hear the alarms blaring behind her as she mounted her bike and pedaled furiously into the woods.

***

First, she rode to the Byers house, but there was no one there, so she stowed her bag full of equipment and evidence in Fort Byers, got back on her bike, and set off.

She took the back-alley streets across town and parked up around the back of the station, slipping in the staff entrance. The station was busy, deputies were hovering and phones were ringing continuously.

“Excuse me, do you know where-” Nancy tried, and the deputy gave her a look and walked away.

She asked the next one that passed, “Do you know where Hopper is?” The deputy brushed her off and headed out the door.

Nancy felt that familiar anger letting lose on the surface. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” She yelled at large to the station. They all stopped, even Florence, the secretary handling the phones. She met a couple of the deputy’s eyes, they were narrowed, one of them looked familiar. But she didn’t know where she’d seen him before. Was it at the facility?

The cold realization that she couldn’t trust anyone hit Nancy hard. Anyone here could be on Brenner’s payroll. He wasn’t above corruption. She had to get to the chief, now.

Florence spoke up over the ringing, “The chief’s gone out on another search party. Harrington boy gone missing this time.”

Nancy wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt. The noose was tightening rapidly. She was running out of places to turn. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it, she could worry about Steve later. Now she had to save herself, and get her information to the chief.

“I can get a message to him with one of the deputies if you want?” Florence asked.

“No,” Nancy said quickly, and then a bit kinder, “No thank-you.”

Florence nodded. “Well if you’re sure, be careful out there, just got reports of a shooter on the lose.”

Nancy froze. The deputies were all still watching the exchange. She needed to get out of here. Now.

“Keep an eye out,” Florence continued oblivious. “Shooter’s a girl. About seventeen. Brunette.” Florence slowed down as she finished her sentence, looking up at Nancy.

Nancy sighed exasperated, bolting for the door, which was luckily just behind her. Something clipped her side, but she didn’t waste any time, fearing it was a deputy grabbing her she made her feet carry her faster than they ever had.

She was on her bike and two streets away before she heard the sirens. She’d have been worried about getting caught, but she’d lived in Hawkins her whole life. This was her town, and she knew it better than anyone, even the police force. Now her adrenalin was gone, she felt a sharp pain dig in her side, she opened her coat and looked down. Her top was torn and blood was saturating the fabric slowly.

Okay, she thought, you’ve been shot. Keep calm. It’s just a gun wound. She was on the verge of hysterics. Her life wasn’t in any immediate danger from the wound, it was more the idea of being shot that freaked her out. 

She ditched the bike behind a skip bin. They’d be looking for a girl on a bike, too obvious. She pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and let it cover her face. She had her wallet, and her gun. That’s all she needed.

Slipping into a small cluster of people passing the alley, she went to a cheap department store and brought new clothes, throwing her old ones in the trash. She looked at her naked torso in the changing room, the cut wasn’t that big, but it would need a couple of stitches. She thanked herself lucky, an inch to the left and it would have killed her. Knowing she had to stem the flow of blood, Nancy grabbed her already partially blood-soaked top from the rubbish bin and wrapped it around her torso, knotting it tightly so it would keep pressure on the cut.

After she paid for the clothes, she made her way to the front of the store. From inside she looked out the windows, a patrol car would drive by every few minutes, but far scarier, were the white vans that kept popping up. Until the chief was back from the search party, she’d need a hideout. Somewhere she was welcome, and that no one would think to look.

As she gazed out the window, lost and trying had to find a solution, she saw a familiar face that had her diving into a clothing rack. Brenner was out there, hunting her.

“Can I help you with anything else?” the middle-aged store assistant asked. Nancy turned to her and the woman’s face dropped. “You okay darlin, you look all sorts of scared.” She had long dirty-blonde hair and a bunch of multi-colored bangles.

Nancy thought quickly, and she thanked any heavenly body that would listen for her sharp mind. “My-my boyfriend. I broke up with him…and he gets violent, and he’s just outside.” Nancy tried and failed for fake tears. She just had to hope that her genuine fear was enough to pull her through.

The woman became staunch. “I don’t think so.” She rolled up her sleeves. “You show him to me, we’ll see who gets violent.”

“No ma’am. Please. I just need to get home without him seeing me.”

“Where is home, darlin?” the woman asked, patting her back. Nancy had to stifle the urge to slap her for calling her darlin. But now wasn’t the time.

“Purser street. Off Maplewood. Is there a back door I can use?”

“I’ll go one better,” the woman said, locking the store door. “I’ll drive you there myself. And while we’re on our way, I’m gonna tell you the seven reasons why you gotta leave men like that in the dirt where they belong.”

***

“Number seven, you don’t _need_ a man. There’s nothing you can’t do in this world, and you sure as hot-dang-shit, don’t need a man dimming your shine.”

Nancy nodded. Lydia, even though she insisted on using the word ‘darlin’ three times a minute, was one of the best people Nancy had ever met. Lydia might have been working on the lie that Nancy had an abusive boyfriend, her wisdom was exactly what she’d needed.

Lydia stopped the car outside seventy-four. “Now I want you to get out this car, and leave the negative behind. Because you, my sweet Nancy, are a fierce warrior, ready to take this world by force.”

Lydia leaned over to hug her, and Nancy found she didn’t hate it. It was comforting.

“Thanks Lydia.” She got out the car and walked the garden path, the sun was setting and there was a thick black line rimming the horizon. As she knocked on the door, she knew this could be the mistake that ended her short stint on the run. This could kill her. But she still knocked.

“Nancy?” the door opened, letting out a soft orange light, and the smell of a warm gravy-filled meal.

“Mrs. Holland. Help me.” It was all she could manage before she burst into tears of relief.

Mrs. Holland bundled her up and brought her inside, shutting the door behind her. After all Lydia had just said about being a strong warrior, Nancy had crumbled the minute she’d felt the slightest hint of safety.

Mr. Holland came out into the hallway to see what the commotion was. “Nancy! Is everything alright?” His concern sent Nancy into hysterics.  “Come on Marsha, let’s get her into the lounge, get a blanket around her.”

Nancy let them guide her into a soft seat, through her tears she was passed a hot mug, she felt a thick blanket wrap around her shoulders. Robert and Marsha were talking, maybe to her. Maybe to each other. Nancy couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t long before she passed out. It had been one hell of a day.

***

She came to and she was still on the sofa, her blouse pulled up. Mrs. Holland meticulously cleaned the wound with rubbing alcohol and stitched the skin back together neatly. Nancy took a while to order recent events in her mind, making sure she knew what was what before she let herself do anything.

Mrs. Holland gave her side another swipe of alcohol and let the blouse fall back down.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” Nancy blurted.

Mrs. Holland smiled sadly and have her the most mom-look she could muster. “And when has asking you questions ever got me anywhere, Nancy Wheeler?”

Nancy was back on the verge of tears again. “Barb-” she tried.

“It’s okay Nancy. Just relax for a moment would you, you gave me and Rob quite a scare.” Marsha was still smiling. Barb’s mother was warm, enduringly kind, and she’d always made Nancy feel like things were never quite as bad as she thought.

Nancy did just as she was asked. Relaxed. The sun was gone now and rain was just starting to pitter-patter on the windows.

Mr. and Mrs. Holland returned to the lounge. Robert carried a bowl of soup for Nancy, and Marsha had a hot water bottle, which she placed between the sofa and Nancy’s back.

They settled down, watching her, only concerned. Not angry, or questioning, just concerned.

“I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, Nancy?” Mrs. Wheeler gave her that warm smile that made her twist with guilt.

“For you to know about Barb.” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, and like a rock rolling down a hill, she knew the conversation had to happen now.

Mrs. Holland shook her head. “We already know sweetheart. You called us, remember? We- they found her body. Shut down that stupid department. It was their accident. I think I should telephone your mother.” She got up from her seat and had taken only one step before Nancy spoke.

“Barb was murdered.”

Mr. Holland tensed and Mrs. Holland gracefully landed back in her seat. They watched her, not with concern now, but with sharp eyes.

“You’re not going to believe me. And that’s okay. I wouldn’t believe me. But it wasn’t just a government coverup, there was no accident with Barb.” Neither of Barb’s parents spoke so Nancy continued, feeling lighter with each word. “It all started with the scientists…”

Nancy let the story flow. The child experiments, the tearing of the dimensional wall. The Demogorgons.

“You see, even though it was a monster that killed her, it was my fault. We shouldn’t have gone to that party, if we hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been taken.”

“Hush.” Mrs. Holland leaned over and cupped Nancy’s face, wiping away her tears. Mr. Holland came to her other side and dropped to a knee.

“Do you really think we’d blame you?” he asked.

“You believe me?” Nancy sputtered?

“Of course not. This is clearly a delusion brought on by guilt. We don’t blame you at all Nancy, we adore you, you can’t put yourself through this.” He patted her leg.

Nancy laughed for the first time in – she didn’t know how long.  “I wish it was. Really.” She didn’t want to scare them, but she had to make sure they understood. “Where do you think all the people are disappearing to Mr. Holland?”

“Vacations- moving cities- it’s common nowadays,” he dismissed her.

Nancy turned to Mrs. Holland. “Marsha…surely you see it.” And just like that Nancy caught a glimpse of understanding in her eyes.

“I-I…I’m not sure what I think,” she finished lamely. “Sometimes I feel her, like she’s watching over me, like my own personal guardian angel.”

Nancy nodded. It was enough, she stood, wincing at the pain in her side. “I have to go now.”

“Go? Where could you possibly have to go?” Mr. Holland was ruffled.

“I don’t know.” As soon as she said it she realized it was true. She had nowhere to go. She couldn’t go home. The police would surely be there. Couldn’t go to the police station. “Would you mind if I call my mother to say goodbye?”

“Goodbye?” Mrs. Holland repeated.

“I can’t stay here anymore. I have to get out of town.”

Mr. Holland looked on the verge of saying something, but Mrs. Holland relented. “Of course, the phone’s in the kitchen.”

Nancy made her way gingerly across the room, and once she was in the kitchen she leaned her head against the wall. A wanted fugitive. This day hadn’t gone anything like she’d imagined. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Mr. Holland’s voice carried.

“She’s disturbed Marsha. We have to call the hospital, maybe even the police.”

“We can’t call the police Robert. She was Barb’s best friend.”

“That was then, that’s not the same girl we knew, there’s something about her.”

Nancy tuned them out and spun the dial on the phone.

It was late, past midnight, Nancy doubted anyone would be awake. The phone rang twice before someone picked up, startling her.

“Wheeler residence.” It was Mike.

“Mike! It’s me, Nancy-” she rushed, ready to continue, but Mike cut her off.

He was unnecessarily loud, “Hello Mrs. Byers!”

“No Mike, it’s me Nanc-”

“Yes Mrs. Byers, we’re worried about Nancy too. We just want her home safe.”

“Mike…” Nancy said slowly, unsure if she was missing something.

“No we’re fine, there’s an officer stationed at the house, we’re quite safe.”

Oh! There was a cop at the house listening. It seemed Nancy wasn’t the only quick thinker in the family. “Nice work Mike. I’m heading out of town, I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll be in touch soon.”

“No,” he said too quickly and had to backtrack. “No I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. By the way, Will radioed me earlier,” Mike was putting extra emphasis on his words.

“Will?”

“He told me about how your two cats made it home safe.”

Nancy wasn’t following. “Joyce doesn’t have any cats.”

“Yes, both _cats._ Home safe just in time for the storm.”

Cats. Not cats. Jonathan and Steve. “Are you sure?” Nancy didn’t want to let herself believe it for fear of disappointment.

“Yes, Will said they looked like they’d seen a rough ride. But that they were tucked up inside now. Anyway Mrs. Byers, I have to go, the police officer wants to use the phone, this phone. The phone in our house.” Mike hung up.

Nancy closed her eyes and shook her head. Maybe she _was_ the only smart sibling. He’d really laid it on thick at the end.

This was good news. She had a destination. She knew where to go. Even if the boys weren’t back, Joyce would hide her until things died down.

She went back into the lounge. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had hardly moved. “Mrs. Wheeler, I need a few things, I hate to ask, but I have to.”

***

Barb’s long green jacket flapped around Nancy as she rode. She was riding Barb’s teal bicycle. The peddles pumped under Nancy’s feet. The wheels gliding through puddles soundlessly. She was about to enter the main town center when the sirens went off.

Mrs. Holland had done as Nancy had asked then. Relief flooded her. Mrs. Holland called the police and told them that Nancy Wheeler had just shown up on her doorstep and to come quick.

Car after car whirred past Nancy and she cycled through the town. No one gave her a second look. She passed the police station, inside she imagined it was empty, but it gave her a certain thrill to think that those were the people looking for her and she was right here, outside their door.

The rain helped, and so did the total darkness of a stormy sky. There was no moon to reflect off the jacket she’d taken from Barb’s wardrobe. People wouldn’t venture outside in this weather unless they absolutely had to, and certainly not at this hour.

She coasted out of the town and onto the sparsely lit country road. If she hadn’t been so single-minded, she would have been scared. There were definitely creatures out there, in the shadows of Hawkins, waiting for fresh blood.

The thoughts of death fueled her, even with her injured side, she powered through.

Anxiety struck her in the gut as she biked up to the Byers house and leaned the bicycle against the outside.

She crept her way around the house and to Jonathan’s bedroom window. It was probably a false hope, but she knocked anyway. If no one answered she was back to square one, unsafe, at risk, and ready for hypothermia to set it. And if they were in there, the chanced were someone pull the trigger before asking questions.

She shrugged and knocked louder.

There was movement, two pale faces peeked above the covers. If she hadn’t already cried all her years earlier she’d have burst right there and then.

But that relief was quickly punctured when neither guy got up to open the window.

“Are you gonna let me in, or leave me to drown in this fucking storm?” Boys. The worst.

***

“So that’s my week from hell,” Nancy finished, having just recounted the time they’d spent away from each other. No one had asked her for her story, and she didn’t need to be asked. “I guess you two have some far-fetched story about how tough your weeks were.” She was in fresh clothes that they’d borrowed from Joyce’s room. And while Nancy was showering Jonathan had thrown the top and bottoms into the dryer so they were warm when Nancy put them on.

Nancy was sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at the boys. Jonatan’s head was resting on Steve’s side, and Steve was turned towards Nancy.

Steve blew out, turning his head towards Jonathan. “You wanna tell her, or should I?”

“I’ll do it. You’re too blunt. Here’s the thing Nancy…” Jonathan took a deep breath, reading himself.

“You’ve been injected with the DNA of a creature from another dimension, and it’s transformed your body into something in between.” She said matter-of-factly. “Dramatic reveal.”

Jonathan pouted. “You took _all_ the fun out of that Nancy Wheeler.”

“Go on then,” she continued. “Let’s spin the wheel of dimensional blood, what did you get merged with?”

Jonathan could feel that underneath her casual and comedic show she was not only concerned, but scared.

“Mind Flayer.” Jonathan flicked his eyes to their new frosty white look.

“Demogorgon.” Steve’s eyes didn’t white-out like Jonathan’s did, instead his pupils stretched into a long line, cat-like, and his irises had a green glow to them.

Nancy didn’t startle externally. “Well…”

_It’s okay to be scared Nance._

Nancy physically shook. “Did you just? You are not allowed into my head Jonathan. Ever. Do you understand me?” It was her mom-voice, stern and loud.

“Fine. Fine, just stop yelling or you’ll wake up Hopper and Mom. You were loud enough banging around in the shower.”

“Get a bigger shower then. Also the chief’s here? That’s good. In the morning I’ll ask him for a little favor. Just need that warrant for my arrest to disappear.”

“Nancy Wheeler,” Steve sighed. “Career criminal. Shooter of ducks, stealer of hearts, breaker of noses.”

“Hah, the only hearts I’m going to steal are the ones I pull out of people’s chests, thanks.” She flopped onto the floor, bundled up in her makeshift bed.

Steve couldn’t help but smile at it fondly, he remembered when that had been his bed, but now he’d upgraded beyond belief. Steve laid on his back, pulling in Jonathan to his side.

“We have to stop them from experimenting on anyone else.” Nancy said to the ceiling.

Jonathan looked at Steve, Steve nodded. They could trust her. “They’re not going to be experimenting on anyone anytime soon Nance, I stole the serums.”

“You’re joking.”

Steve replied, mocking smile in place, “Never been a comedian, has he?” Jonathan swatted at him and he laughed. God Jonathan had missed that laugh.

It went quiet. The trials had been stopped, or at least halted for now, they were together again, none of them were in serious pain. It was a good day to be alive. They could take some time off, relax a little.

Not if Nancy had anything to do with it, when she spoke, they weren’t sure if she was talking to them or talking to herself. It was usually to herself. “Tomorrow we can go through the map, you can check things out, make sure I didn’t miss anything obvious.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jonathan said sleepily.

“Oh, and ground rules. No sex while I’m in the room,” Nancy barked before she nestled herself into her pillow.

Steve grinned and Jonathan could feel it even though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until now…and well…”

“I will put a bullet through those nice new green eyes Steve, don’t test me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Tomorrow was going to be tough. They’d put off a lot. And the thing about putting things off is that it feels great, until that timer runs out, and you actually have to follow through and get your hands dirty.

But, Steve thought, drifting off to sleep, that was something he could worry about tomorrow.


	15. Acclimatize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't die, I promise. 
> 
> Did I slip into a wine coma? Who knows. Just kidding. Drink responsibly. 
> 
> I finished writing the whole fic. 
> 
> So you have like another 100,000 words to go! I just need to edit it. 
> 
> Hope you stuck around, things are about to get wild.

As it was, they didn’t solve anything in the morning, because both Steve and Jonathan slept right through until the middle of the afternoon.

Jonathan became aware of voices in his head slowly, there weren’t many, in fact, as his mind cleared, there were only two. One he blocked out immediately, for fear she’d kill him if she knew. The other voice, that voice was tantalizing.

The voice stopped and images filled Jonathan’s mind instead. Images of Steve smothering him in kisses, starting at his neck. In his mind his clothes vanished and Steve kept kissing down his body, until he reached his navel and then sat up, looking down at him. Jonathan looked up, letting his mind’s eye roam across Steve’s torso, his arms, his pronounced collar bones. Steve’s hand grasped Jonathan’s crouch.

Jonathan shook. They were still in bed, yes, but they were clothed. Well, sort of. Jonathan still had his pajama bottoms on, and he hoped Steve still had on his underwear. Jonathan cracked open an eye and saw Steve’s Cheshire grin.

“Did you just-”

“Put my fantasy into your head so you’d wake up and pay me attention? Yes. Yes, I did.” Steve didn’t blush.

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “Not fair.”

“Why?” Steve shifted around under the covers, pulled off his underwear, and threw them across the room. “I suppose you don’t want to carry it on then?”

Jonathan’s hand slipped down to his own pants, which were tented, but Steve moved his hand out of the way and grasped Jonathan’s length firmly through the fabric.

It was all Jonathan could do to not let his eyes roll into the back of his head and pass out. Pure excitement tingled within him, focused on his groin. If he felt this good, he wanted to make Steve feel just as.

His hand shook a little as it made its way under the covers and over to Steve’s body. He felt the other’s muscled stomach, and the furry little hairs that covered below his belly button. His hand spidered down, past the thick locks of hair that he couldn’t see, but were sure they were light brown, like Steve’s fringe got in the summer. He felt it, felt Steve, just as hard as he was. Jonathan mapped it out with his hand, picturing it in his mind.

The pressure left his groin, Steve’s hand absent. Jonathan looked at him sharply, to see if they’d gone too far, if he’d made a mistake.

But all he saw in Steve’s eyes was white hot desire. With one hands Steve pulled down Jonathan’s pajama pants awkwardly, setting the other man free, and then taking it back in his hand, no barrier this time, just skin on skin.

Jonathan mirrored him, closing his hand around Steve’s warmth. He wasn’t sure if it was too tight, or too loose, but when he heard Steve moan, he decided it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that this was lighting their insides.

Steve began a slow rhythmic stroke, which Jonathan tried to mimic, but now there were two arms moving it was getting difficult to negotiate. It felt better than anything ever had to Jonathan. Better than his own hand, that was for sure. There was something other-worldly about Steve rubbing him off. And judging by Steve’s closed eyes and lolling head, he was enjoying himself just as much.

It was too much for Jonathan, he could feel himself building, the pressure in his lower body peaking, like the thrum of a river until he was brimming. He was leaking. Steve was leaking. Their breaths were shallow. Their hands became frantic, the long even strokes were gone, now they were hard and fast.

They both opened their eyes and locked. For this last they wanted to see it. Jonathan watched the orgasm rip across Steve’s face, it went from winced in pain, to relaxed in pleasure, and when his eyelids fluttered, Jonathan could see their dim green glow. Jonathan didn’t stop his hand, he kept the pressure up, kept squeezing every inch of pleasure out of Steve.

With a jolt he felt himself blow, back spasming with the force of it. He didn’t have time to try and look as angelic as Steve had, he let himself ride it out like he was coasting on the back of a soaring eagle. It rolled out of him, wave after wave of pure bliss. In those few seconds he wasn’t a student, a solider, part-Mind Flayer, he was something else, he transcended into a place where nothing existed by Steve’s face and his fulfilled desire. If only for a moment.

Eventually their breathing evened. Their hearts slowed, and they were left covered in the reminder of what they’d just done.

“Well this is a mess,” Jonathan was fighting the blush in this post-orgasm moment. He’d never been with anyone, much less a stunningly handsome someone.

Steve nuzzled into Jonathan’s side. “A delicious mess.”

“We need to shower.”

“Do we though? Can’t we just stay in bed doing that forever?”

“We could…” Jonathan said sweetly. “But if we clean up, get some food, we’d have enough energy for…more.”

“More?” Steve hummed into Jonathan’s neck.

Jonathan focused on an image and projected it into Steve’s mind. It was just as Steve had teased him the night before, Jonathan splayed wide on the bed naked, welcoming Steve between his legs.

It had the desired effect, Steve moaned loudly and jumped out of bed, facing away from Jonathan, who was very busy admiring Steve’s ass as he walked away. Like the rest of him, it was toned, but jiggled a bit as he danced to the door.

Jonathan found his mouth watering, he was gagging to take a bite.

Steve looked over his shoulder. “Are we home alone?”

Jonathan scanned the house again, “Nancy’s in the lounge.”

“Ugh.” Steve sighed, grabbing his towel of the back of the door. “Round two will wait, but we’re picking this up again.” Steve opened the door. “And if you _really_ want to bite it. Bite it, Johnny.”

Steve closed the door behind himself and Jonathan was left alone in bed, hands sticky, face blushing.

***

Jonathan let the water run rivers down his body.

He hadn’t showered in over a week, and it felt good to be clean again, as if with the water could somehow wash away all that had been done to him. The water was as hot as it would go, but he still couldn’t feel it. It should have him screaming in pain, but it barely felt lukewarm.

He’d been violated, transformed into something he never asked for, never wanted. His abilities were laced with a layer of resentment.

And yet, he couldn’t help but flex his mind. He had power now. That meant he had a real shot at protecting his family. Maybe Brenner had been onto something. He hadn’t gone the right way about it, that’s for sure. Jonathan knew he was a target now. But his family had been targets from the very start. Destiny had always turned a blind eye to the safety of the Byers family.

He had to hold onto the fact that if he managed to save even one life from the Demogorgons, his pain and suffering would be worth it.

Steam had clouded his vision, and the glass in the bathroom, by the time he shut off the water. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel tight around his waist.

As he walked past the mirror he stopped, wiped his hand across the condensation, and looked at himself. There were no physical changes. Not right now. It was the same face he’d always looked into. He didn’t think his chin was quite strong enough, he wanted more even ears, maybe a smaller nose. It was an okay face, he didn’t mind it.

But the lack of noticeable change made it worse. There was no marker, no identifier to reveal what had been done to him. It was like life was trying to trick him, lull him into a false sense of reality.

He looked into his own familiar eyes and watched them frost over white, it started at the center, a pinprick of white in his pupil, which spread evenly until it eclipsed his entire eye.

This was what he’d become. Something new. Something broken. Something…powerful.

He blinked. His brown eyes were back. The beast beneath the surface, hidden.

***

Nancy dumped her duffle bag on the table. Steve slid a plate of bacon onto the counter. Jonathan shook his wet hair, sending out droplets of water.

“Woof,” Steve said, eating a piece of crunchy bacon and jumping up on to the kitchen counter.

Jonathan went to pour himself a glass of orange juice and noticed a note pinned to the fridge with a Disney magnet: _Lay low. Stay inside._ What else were they going to do? Both guys were recovering, and Nancy was probably a wanted felon by now.

Nancy began pulling things out of her bag, a bunch of crumpled papers, a slick folder, a heavy looking black box that was humming, and a bunch of other things which she pushed to the side, laying out the pieces of paper and smoothing them with her hands.

“This is the map?” Jonathan asked, looking down at a slightly older rendition of the town. A few new shops were missing, a couple of housing sections hadn’t been drawn yet, and it was blank where the facility stood.

“Yes, this is the town. The black crosses are cracks in the interdimensional wall,” Nancy explained.

There were more than Jonathan had expected, more than he could count before Nancy dropped another sheet over the top of the first. This one looked incredibly old. He was reminded of when he’d painted letters with tea bag water and let them dry when he was a kid, it made them look like parchment, scrolls found in the tombs of Egyptian pharos.

With a bit of shuffling the two maps aligned, and all the black marks signaling a crack in the dimension matched up with the thin lines of the second drawing.

Steve hopped off the counter and inspected the top map closely, rubbing the corners between his fingers. “Whoever drew this was religious.”

“How’d you work that out?” Nancy said dubiously.

“Right there.” Steve pointed to the bottom scribbles that Nancy couldn’t decipher. “Bishop. Bishop something, I can’t read the other name.”

“What’s that on the other side, along the left side?” Jonathan was hovering over the table, but too far away to read it.

Steve pulled it close and squinted his eyes to read the scrawl. ‘The door will open where the lines meet.’ It hung in the air as all three of them took it apart and analyzed it.

“You don’t think…” Jonathan shook it head. “Someone couldn’t have known two hundred years ago.”

“Could they?” Steve asked Nancy.

“I-I don’t know.” Her face was lined with exertion. “I mean, how? How could they possibly have known?”

Jonathan had to try hard to stop her thoughts from breaking through his wall. They were so loud. There was so many. She was using words Jonathan had no idea of the meanings. It was an endless barrage of words. So many.

“Nancy!” he shouted. Everyone jumped. “Please try and keep your head quiet, I can’t cope with it.”

“Sorry,” she apologized solemnly, and Steve brought his hand around to the back of Jonathan’s neck and rubbed gently.

After breathing his way through the discomfort, Jonathan said, “Precognition? What does that mean?” It was one of the few words that he’d managed to pick out of Nancy’s runaway train of thoughts.

“It’s way out there, not to mention it’s not real. But people think that some events can be, you know, seen, ages before they happen.”

“Like fortune tellers?” Steve asked.

“Kind of. Say a huge event happened, like thousands of people died, or a natural disaster struck, some people reckon there are signs, an echo that spans the timeline. There was this one girl who told her parents not to get on a ship, that something awful would happen if they did, but her parents didn’t listen, they took her on the boat anyway. It was the Titanic. Both her parents died, but she survived. Apparently, she’s been trying to convince people she can see the future ever since.”

Jonathan raised both his eyebrows. “You know an awful lot about this, Nance.”

She busied herself with the maps. “Yeah well, I saw it, saw the word precog in one of Dr. James’ files.”

“So, this _could_ be real?” Steve asked, eyeing Jonathan. “People really could see the future?”

“I mean, if you’d have asked me two years ago if I believed in monsters or people with telekinetic powers, I’d have called you crazy. So maybe.”

“There,” Steve said, turning to Jonathan, “You’re not going mad, you did see into the future.”

Nancy’s mouth dropped. “You what?”

Jonathan gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to slap Steve. “I maybe saw myself, a few times, when I passed out.” Nancy’s jaw stayed low. “But it’s not like I can see the lottery numbers,” Jonathan said quickly. “I could only see inside my own head. It’s complicated.”

Nancy whistled low. “We’re getting more complicated by the day.”

“Back to the map,” Steve said, peering at it closely. “Where do the lines…” he traced a line with his finger. “Meet!” he finished triumphantly. More than a dozen lines connected in the same place.

Jonathan looked through the top map to where the lines met in the modern layout of the town. “The quarry?”

“Were you expecting it to land on something more nefarious? Like the church, or maybe the women’s bathroom in the library,” Nancy scoffed.

“I don’t know. Just not the quarry,” Jonathan defended. “We’ve been there, surely we would have felt something.”

“Surely,” Nancy mimicked, rolling her eyes, she pulled the modern map out from underneath, and the lined parchment fell onto the floor.

Jonathan was about to stoop to pick it up when he froze. There was something hauntingly familiar about it. The paper on the ground. The lines. “Jesus.” He looked up at Steve and Nancy. “It’s the same pattern as the tunnels, isn’t it?”

The three of them were looking down at it on the ground. Just as Will’s drawings of the tunnel had littered the floors and walls of this house so many months ago. There was the spot Steve had dug down into with the kids, right there on one of the lines. Layer after layer.

But what did it mean? How did this fit together? It was on the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t piece it together.

Nancy rolled up the maps, stowed them back in her bag. They were all too deep in thought, their brains working overtime trying to connect the dots. But the dots were moving, and they had no pen, and then the dots vanished. That was what this was, this struggle to understand. They were trying to approach this problem with logic, but logic wasn’t going to get them to the answer.

They needed to take a fresh angle, they needed to stop thinking like scientists, and start using their intuition.

Nancy was fiddling with a few pieces of equipment she’d pulled from the bag. “What’s that?” Jonathan asked, needing to break the clatter of his own and Steve’s thoughts tumbling around his head.

Nancy grimaced. “A work in progress, but I can’t quite seem to get it.”

Steve was leaning against the fridge, his eyes drooping. They’d only been awake for just over an hour but they weren’t nearly close to being recovered, and even this little exertion had cost them.

_Come on, bed Harrington._

Steve bounced his eyebrows a couple of times.

_To go to sleep, you horndog._

They snuck off to bed, Nancy didn’t look up from her toys. They each had their way of coping with the overwhelming pressure of a mystery knocking at their door.

Jonathan’s coping mechanism was far less useful, he just liked to nap to get away from his problems, leave it to his subconscious to solve.

***

Steve and Jonathan dressed in silence. Steve could hear the lounge full of people, and he knew Jonathan must be struggling to battle with all their thoughts.

It was a strange flip of situation, he’d spent years fighting his impulses for other guys, fearing that he’d be discovered, that society would reject him for it. But when it had come down to it, he hadn’t hesitated telling his parents, didn’t flinch at the word queer, he was comfortable in it, with Jonathan.

And now here he was again, cold streaks of dread running under his skin. What if Joyce and the others were scared of him now, what if Dustin looked at him repulsed, what if Joyce made them move out? His thoughts picked up, too fast to follow, but slowed when Jonathan wrapped his arms around him from behind.

“Calm down.”

“I can’t. What if-if-” Steve stuttered.

“If it really gets that bad, I’ll just go _poof_ and make them forget everything.”

Steve snickered. “ _Poof_ eh?”

“Come on,” Jonathan laughed, “Let’s face the hordes.”

He opened the door, padded down the hallway and walked into a wall of noise.

Dustin, Max, Lucas, and Mike were yelling excitedly at their return. Eleven and Will stood on the far side of the room, Eleven’s eyes bright, lips pressed. Joyce and Hopper were watching from the kitchen, amused at the kids’ reaction.

There were some loud bangs from the kitchen, and while he couldn’t see her, Steve assumed Nancy was there, tinkering away. He was proved right as he got to the counter, and snuck a waffle from the bench, dousing it in maple syrup and munching down on it.

“So?” Mike said abruptly.

Lucas carried on, “Are you gonna tell us you’ve been?”

“And what the hell’s going on?” Dustin finished.

Jonathan looked across the room to Steve, Steve shrugged, Jonathan rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” Steve said through a mouthful of waffle. “Jonathan can read and control minds, because he’s part Mind-Flayer, I’ve been given a shot of Demogorgon and now I’m super strong.” Steve flexed his biceps for good measure.

“You forgot the thermal vision,” Jonathan said sarcastically.

“How could I forget?” Steve squinted his eyes, opened them again, and he saw the room full of red and yellows, each body giving off waves of heat. Apart from Jonathan’s, whose silhouette gave off no color at all. He knew his eyes would be glowing green, he knew it in the way everyone flinched.

They swiveled to Jonathan, hoping he would tell them it was all a joke, probably. That it was a hoax, that they were both fine, and completely human.

Jonathan let his eyes turn icy.

_Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me._

“Jesus.”

“Jonathan!”

“Get out of my head kid.”

“What the hell!”

Jonathan smiled, securing his walls back in place live a thick duvet.

“Lucas passed out,” Dustin said, looking down at the other boy.

Max sounded disgusted, “Lucas always passes out.”

Jonathan moved across the room to steal the rest of the waffle out of Steve’s hands.

Steve looked longingly after the waffle. “No questions?” he asked the room.

“Think you summed it up pretty well,” Jonathan muttered.

Joyce was clutching at her chest and Hopper had gone a strange shade of grey.

“Maybe we should talk, without the kids,” Hopper suggested, he gestured his head and everyone under seventeen filed out of the lounge and headed to Will’s room, where they would no doubt stand with their ears pressed against the door.

Joyce and Hopper took seats on the couch, Steve leaned into Jonathan on the opposite sofa, Nancy sat on the floor, scattering a bunch of wires and trinkets around her.

The fire cracked and a log fell, sparks blossoming around the flames.

“So, you’re not human?” Joyce asked, massaging her hands together.

Jonathan slid his hands around Steve, clinging to him for comfort. “Not entirely, no.”

“But you’re still...you. Still Jonathan?” Joyce was clutching at her hopes.

Steve answered. “Still us Joyce, still just as stunningly handsome, and Jonathan’s still just as stunningly weird.”

A little smile pulled at Joyce’s lips.

Jonathan assured her, “I’ll still leave the knife on the edge of the sink in case I decide to make another sandwich, I still probably won’t make my bed, and I’ll still listen to that music that you think is just loud noise.”

Joyce’s smile grew and Jonathan knew that she’d be okay. Hopper, however, had a look of strained concentration on his face. “Like Eleven?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Kinda. Just a bit more…different.”

“If we’re done showboating our new DNA, could we maybe get to the elephant in the room, the warrant for my arrest?” Nancy sure knew how to break tension.

The chief’s face went from concentration to guilt. “About that.”

“About how you’ve already sorted it, and I can go back to my usual dumb teenage life?” Nancy raised an eyebrow so sharply that everyone else in the room leaned back.

Hopper rubbed the back of his neck. “I tried to smooth it over, I really did. But I think a few of the deputies are working for Brenner, I can’t just sweep this away right now.”

Nancy hid her frustration poorly, her nostrils flared and she huffed. “Nothing?”

“It’ll cool off. But for now, I think all three of you should lay low, I don’t want the cops finding you Nancy, and I don’t want Brenner getting ahold of you two again.” It was chief Hopper speaking, not friend Hopper.

“And you better believe I agree with him,” Joyce added. “Nancy you can stay here, we’ll make up the couch for you hun.”

“But what happens when they come here? When they send the Demogorgon pups after us?” Steve’s feet itched at the idea of hiding and staying still.

“I think I can solve that one,” Nancy said, sparking two wires together. “I’ll need a few supplies, if someone can pick some stuff up from the hardware store tomorrow?”

“I’ll grab it after my shift tomorrow,” Joyce nodded.

Hopper followed on, “Now it’s your turn, it’s been a week, y’all must have this almost figured out by now.”

Nancy scoffed. “We wish.” She pulled out the maps and talked them through the lines, the cracks, and the strange writing.

“What’s this at the quarry?” Hopper asked, laying his finger on the point where the lines met.

Jonathan explained, “We don’t know, it seems like that’s where most of this weird stuff is headed. Maybe you could check it out?”

“Sure,” Hopper nodded. “Frank Sattler’s a good friend. He won’t mind me looking around. There were a lot of disappearances around that area.”

“How many went missing while I was gone?” Jonathan was afraid to ask, but asked anyway, preparing himself for the worst.

“Well that’s just it,” Hopper said. “None.”

“None?” Jonathan repeated.

“Only Steve here, but he’s back now, other than that, no one reported anything, no sightings no attacks. But here’s where things get strange.”

“You mean they weren’t strange enough already?” Steve said sarcastically.

Hopper grunted a laugh. “Nobody went missing, but we did find a bunch of dead ones, dead Demogorgons. In the woods, one down by the lake, a few out the back of the Wheeler’s place.”

Nancy was immediately on edge. “My house?”

“It’s alright Nance,” Hopper soothed. “They were dead.”

“We found two, last night, just out in the woods. Both torn to shreds,” the smell of them echoing around Steve’s nose.

“I don’t know what it is,” Hopper said, looking out the fogged window. “But there’s somethin’ out there. Somethin’ killing the Demogorgons for us.”

“We saw it,” Jonathan said quietly. “It was fast, real fast. It looked human.”

“Could it have been another…another person like you?” Joyce asked.

“Well if it was,” Nancy said, pulling a file from behind her and flipping it open. “Their name will be here.” She handed out a sheet to each of them, and they all scanned the names. “This is the list of everyone who was a viable candidate for the trial.”

Steve recognized a few names, kids from school. Some of them had gone missing a while ago, so it couldn’t have been them. Or could it, he asked himself, they knew they weren’t the first trial, maybe one of the earlier trials had taken well.

Jonathan got to the bottom of his sheet. He saw his name, highlighted green. Under that, Steve’s was highlighted green. But underneath that, Nancy’s name was highlighted yellow. “What does this mean?” He passed it to Nancy.

“Hm.” She thought for a second. “The last time I saw this, Steve’s name was yellow, maybe the green means a successful trial.”

“But you’re still in yellow. What do you think that means?”

Nancy shrugged. “Who knows.”

Steve read a few names that had been crossed through with a marker. He could just make out some of the letters. “Hey! It’s Eric. The guy from the cinema. He’s been crossed off.”

“I’ve got a few crossed off too,’ Joyce murmured from the couch. “Jeffery someone.”

“Jeffery Chambers?” Hopper asked. Joyce nodded. “The guy from the gas station.”

“They were making their way from the list, picking people off. Testing them. I guess the crossed-out names mean they didn’t make it,” Nancy sounded clinical, her hatred for the scientist she’d worked with burning deep.

The logs on the fire fell once more and Joyce looked at the clock. “Well, it’s late, we should all be getting to bed, Hopper, do you mind taking all the kids home?”

“Sure.” Hopper turned to the three teenagers. “Only leave the house when necessary. Call me if anything happens. _Don’t_ draw any unnecessary attention to yourselves. The rest of us will carry on, try not to bring any attention our way.” He stood up and the flames cast shadows across his face, adding an extra layer of intensity to his next words.

“We’re at war. With the police. With Brenner. With the monsters. We have to stick together, or we’re not going to make it.”

***

Steve and Jonathan were on their way towards town. Steve drove. Jonathan spun the tuner on the radio, trying to find something worth listening to. They were going to the hardware store, because in all her glorious explanations and discoveries, Nancy hadn’t told Hopper what materials she needed.

And it didn’t seem like a good idea for any of them to be calling the station. Two of them were missing presumed dead, and the other, well everyone was aware of Nancy’s status now.

Really though, both guys had just wanted an excuse to leave the house, stretch their legs, or claws, depending on who you asked. It was good to get out in the fresh air, to cruise the streets they’d known their whole lives.

Their trip to the hardware store was uneventful. Jonathan didn’t have a clue about any of the tools or equipment in there, Steve took over that. Besides, Jonathan was far too busy invading the minds of the other shoppers. He felt a thrill each time he looked into someone’s head, peeling their thoughts back layer after layer until he found their secrets. That’s what got him, the secrets. He wanted to know all of them.

Steve bumped into him gently with the shopping trolley, it was full of metal stakes, lanterns, a whole bunch of cables, solder, and some barbed wire. Jonathan looked at Steve, face full of questions.

Steve shrugged. “Just following orders, I wasn’t gonna stick around for a lecture on why she needs all this.”

“Fair call.” They paid for the equipment, which was incredibly expensive, but thanks to Steve draining his trust fund, not an issue.

They were on their way back to the house and over halfway through the town when Steve pulled over. “Look Johnny! Nuts.” He was pointing at a man on the main street with a bright red cart, steam flowed out of it. By the looks he was selling cones of roasted and sugared nuts.

“I don’t know, we shouldn’t really be out for long,” Jonathan was torn.

“Come on Johnny, you love nuts!” Steve smirked and Jonathan knew it was a lost cause. They got out the car and joined the short queue.

Steve could smell everything from the candied nuts, to the cigarette smoking in the gutter, to the cologne of the man on the other side of the street. He didn’t let it overwhelm him, he embraced it, taking a moment to pour over each smell, following it with his nose and then with his eyes.

He knew if his other senses developed much further he’d stop relying on sight and move to sound and smell, like a real beast.

A man bustled past them, and Steve assumed he was on his way down the street, but instead he pushed his way between them and the woman in front, cutting half a dozen people out of the queue.

“Excuse me.” Steve tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t turn. “Back of the line, buddy.”

The man did turn now, and he was oddly familiar. Steve remembered him. The large man from the theatre. It felt like forever ago that he’d called them queers and been rude to Jonathan. Back then, when Steve had been a hundred percent human, he’d wanted to punch the man in the face.

But now that he held a Demogorgon in his soul, Steve wanted to rip the man’s throat out and gargle his blood.

“Uh.” The large man grunted. “You two queers.”

In a show of pure defiance Steve reached down and laced his fingers with Jonathan’s.

“Us two queers,” Steve confirmed.

Jonathan looked uncomfortable. “Steve we should go.”

“Yeah you should, go and get the fuck outta this town,” the large man spat.

Jonathan felt Steve go rigid, and his nails sharpen, digging into their twined hands. Jonathan squeezed, trying to calm Steve down, and in the process, the other man’s nails cut into Jonathan’s hand.

_I’m here. It’s okay._

The claws retracted.

Other people were staring to look, drawn to the drama. “We don’t want your kind around here,” the man said.

“Our kind?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow. Steve liked that delicate eyebrow.

“Yeah, your kind. Queers.”

The people around there were quiet, watching the exchange with wide eyes. No one stepped in. No one stood up for them.

Jonathan separated their hands, pulled quarter from his pocket, and got ready to flip it. “Heads or tails?” he asked Steve.

“Tails.”

Jonathan flipped the coin high into the air. It caught the light with each spin. Eyes were drawn to it, hypnotized.

It slapped down onto Jonathan’s outstretched palm. “Tails.”

As soon as the word left Jonathan’s mouth Steve stepped forward, and threw his hands into the large man’s shoulders with such force that the man’s feet left the ground, sailed through the air, and landed on the nut cart with an almighty crash.

Jonathan and Steve moved quickly, getting to the car and pulling away.

Steve could feel Jonathan fuming, smell the anger coming out of his pores.

“Too much?” he asked, nervous.

“No.”

“The word queer?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Steve asked, exasperated.

Jonathan let out a _hmph_. “You always win the coin toss.”

***


	16. Panorama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weooowww! 
> 
> Second update this weekend? Wild. 
> 
> The boys train a lil bit.

Hopper was mad.

“Imagine my surprise when a deputy came running in, telling me that two missing boys had turned up. And not only that,” Hopper’s voice grew louder, “That they’d attacked a man on the main street. In front of _dozens_ of witnesses. But not just attacked, oh no, no what they saw was a teenage boy throw a man twice his size two meters through the air.”

“It was more like three.” Steve shrugged.

Hopper banged his hand on the kitchen wall. “It’s not a joke Steve. Brenner will kill you, he’ll kill us all.”

Steve’s voice had lost all confidence, “It can’t be that bad.”

“Can’t it? And what happens if Brenner finds out about you being back in town, for all he knows you’ve run away to Alaska. If he knows you’re here, he’s gonna take Joyce, and then Will, and he won’t stop until you’re back under his thumb again.” Hopper closed his mouth tight, grinding his teeth together so hard it caused him pain. “Go outside, Eleven’s waiting for you.”

Jonathan and Steve just looked at him.

“Outside.” He flicked them away, dropping his head in his hands and rubbing his temples.

Both guys scrambled out the back door.

Jonathan didn’t like being yelled at. In fact, he hated it. It reminded him of the times when he was a kid and Lonnie would scream in his face. Hopper was different, Lonnie had yelled at him because he was an awful human, underneath Hopper’s anger was concern and love.

Eleven was waiting patiently on the step of the porch. “Train,” she said when she saw them.

“Where are we catching a train to?” Steve asked with a grin.

Eleven’s face was blank. “Stop.” She turned and led the way to the edge of the woods. “How fast can you run?” she asked Steve.

He shrugged. “Fast.”

“Run then.” She pointed at Steve and then at the house.

Steve wasn’t wrong. He was fast. He lapped the house in under twenty seconds. When he came to a stop next to Jonathan he looked smug.

Eleven pointed at the house. “Faster.”

Steve dashed away and came back into view ten seconds later.

“Faster,” Eleven yelled.

Steve’s legs picked up and Jonathan heard him grunt.

Eight seconds.

“Faster!”

Eight seconds.

“Not fast enough!”

Seven seconds.

“FASTER!”

Six seconds.

Steve was a blur now, moving almost too fast for Jonathan’s eyes to follow. When he finally stopped, Steve was bent double, breaths shallow.

“B minus,” Eleven said.

“What?” Steve panted.

“B minus. It’s a good grade. But not great. Will told me.”

Jonathan scoffed and Eleven zeroed in on him. “You’re next.”

“I can’t run.” Jonathan was getting wheezy at the mere thought of running.

“Not running.” Eleven waved at Jonathan’s body, “Weak.” She stepped closer and reached up to tap his head. ‘Strong.”

“You want me to run my mind?” Jonathan asked.

“I thought I was the one running through your mind all day?” Steve had recovered and was back grinning like a fool.

Jonathan ignored him.

Eleven looked into the woods. “Find Will.”

Jonathan followed her gaze, “Will’s out there?”

“Hide and seek,” she said.

Jonathan made to move towards the trees. Eleven pulled him back and pointed at his head. “Find Will,” she repeated.

For someone who claimed to be a mind reader, Jonathan sure was having a slow day.

He closed his eyes and reached out into the darkness. The world was mapped with bursts of light. Steve’s mind was a blazing green next to him, and he could almost see the flow of thoughts though the shimmer. Eleven’s mind was a dull red, with spots of brightness, Jonathan picked them as the changes the experiments and drug therapy had made to her.

He scanned further. There were dim pinpricks everywhere, thousands. Jonathan focused in on a cluster of them, squirrels hiding in a tree. Their thoughts weren’t coherent, jumbled and fuzzy images. He narrowed down to the forest floor, where tiny lights marched their way across the leaves. Beetles. Spiders. Ants.

A small mind swopped into his area of vision. Erratic. Flapping. A bird! Jonathan seized onto it with his mind, reading the images. It wasn’t enough to see the ground from above, to see the trees getting closer still image by still image. Jonathan pushed his mind out and into the bird’s.

Wings were not nearly as easy to control as legs were. Jonathan banked sharply and hit the ground. He searched through the bird’s thoughts, pinning down the method to flying. There was no conscious thought to how it flew. There was no how-to rulebook.

Jonathan cleared his mind. To not-think, was to fly. On instinct alone, he scratched his claws across the ground, beat his wings, and jumped. It was shaky to start, it took a lot of effort on his wings to keep him off the ground, but he persevered, getting high enough to glide. It was a pure rush, to cut through the air like a bullet, to pull back and hover. With the bird’s beady eyes, Jonathan saw a figure crouched behind a tree.

Small, but a bright mind. A human mind. Still controlling the bird, Jonathan set it down gently upon Will’s head. Will didn’t seem surprised, and he didn’t try and shake it off. Through the bird’s ears, Jonathan heard what could have been a laugh.

He pulled out of the bird’s mind and back into his own body. “He’s on his way back.”

“A plus,” Eleven graded Jonathan.

“Unfair. You’ve always liked him better!” Steve looked like a petulant child with his arms crossed and eyes squinted.

“He’s cooler.” Eleven shrugged.

Jonathan brought on a cocky grin. “Yeah I am.” He would have continued gloating but he heard something, an unfamiliar whispering. He listened harder. It wasn’t Steve or Eleven, it wasn’t even the distant voice of Will.

It got louder, and louder. Until he screamed with pain. Screamed the whisper into this world, “BEHOLDER.”

He passed out.

***

Steve was on his knees, bent over Jonathan trying to shake him back to consciousness.

Will came out of the woods looking stark white, a bird perched like a statue on his head. Steve didn’t have time to ask questions, he went back to Jonathan, who started to shake, intermittently at first, and then into a full-on seizure.

There was a thud as Will dropped to the floor, his body, like Jonathan’s quaking violently.

“Nancy!” Steve yelled towards the house.

She burst out the door arms full of the metal spikes, but she’d attached things to each of them. Hopper followed her out with a bundle in his own arms. Nancy didn’t speak, didn’t explain, she just dashed around the house, every few meters plunging an iron spike into the ground. Hopper was doing the same.

They met up around the side of the house, having surrounded it in a wobbly circle of spikes. Nancy ran inside, trailing a bunch of copper wires. There was a pause, Steve heard the generator roar to life, and the bulb on top of each spike flickered on. If Steve listened closely he could hear a high-pitched ringing.

Will stilled, and shortly after, Jonathan did too.

Jonathan came to almost immediately, shaking the confusion from his eyes. “I-how-wha?”

“It’s alright. You just fell down…was it…you know…” Steve prodded gently.

“A vision? Yeah. Kinda.” With Steve’s help, Jonathan got to his feet.

“What was-” Steve started to ask, but Jonathan touched his hand to his temple and Steve was inside his mind.

There was fire. A lot of it. There was a man stood in front of the flames. A large silhouette against the destruction. He laughed heartily. The fire vanished and there were things crawling. Creatures with no shape, just twisted blurs of spindly legs and snapping fangs. Thousands of cloudy white eyes staring back at him. Then they were gone, and he was looking down at Jonathan alone in the forest. “Only the Beholder can save you now.” The images raced passed in reverse until he was thrown from the vision with force.

“Jesus, Johnny.”

Jonathan still looked glazed. “I don’t think praying is going to help us against that.” He couldn’t face the images again. Their ghost-imprint was burned into his eyes, and he had to busy himself. “How did you stop it, Nance?”

Nancy puffed up her chest, proud but not arrogant. “Hopper said we needed to keep the house safe, and I thought, what’s the only thing we know that keeps the other dimension at bay?” She paused, hoping someone would answer her, but when nobody did she continued. “Magnetic fields. That’s what they are.” She pointed at the metal stakes, pulsing with a small bulb. “They put a sort of bubble around the house. Nothing other-dimensional can come in.”

Hopper fixed both guys with a steely look. “And nothing gets out.”

Jonathan was stoked the house was safe, but he didn’t much like the idea of being locked in.

Judging by the look Steve gave him, he was already planning an escape.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Mr. and Mrs. Harrington - Part Two


	17. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less wine, more editing. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos, it's real nice when you write a book and people don't think it's shit.

Day one felt like being grounded.

Day two felt like a cage.

Day three felt like they were in prison.

“I’ve had it,” Jonathan huffed.

“We have to get out of here,” Steve agreed.

“But where?”

“I’ve been thinking, remember what my parents said. It might be nothing, but I want to check it out anyway.”

Jonathan stilled. “You mean go back to your house?”

“Yeah, look around, see if we can’t pick up any clues.”

“As good an idea as any. But…” Jonathan trailed.

“Nancy.”

“She’s not going to let us go easy.” Nancy knew how the magnetic wall worked. Nancy had the battery box. Nancy had the power. Being half-otherworldly, meant that Steve and Jonathan couldn’t pass the wall. Humans could go through it, but it would hurt their ears, a lot. And any metal objects they had on them would either melt or tear apart, Nancy wasn’t sure of which just yet.

“We’ll bribe her,” Steve exclaimed. “If we go to her house and bring her the rest of her equipment, she’ll do it.”

“She’s not that desperate for some tools and supplies. Is she?” Jonathan asked dubiously.

As it turned out, Nancy really _was_ that desperate for her things. “Oh,” she added on their way out the door, “bring me some clothes too.”

“What kinda clothes?” Steve called out the car window.

Nancy shrugged, turning off the magnetic boundary. “You’re the homosexuals, you’ll figure it out.”

Outside the electromagnetic boundary they breathed fresh air. Of course, the air inside had been just as fresh, but it was the idea of freedom that made it sweet.

They rode in mostly silence to Steve’s house, taking the back roads and avoiding the main streets. If they got caught outside the house, Hopper would probably burn them alive.

The outside of the house looked just as it had Steve’s whole life. The white exterior was dirt free, and the windows were clean. But something wasn’t quite right. There was no furniture of the other side of the windows, no TV, no couch.

Steve skirted the house, walking around the side, he could feel Jonathan following his steps. He pulled a wobbly brick out from the wall next to the back door. Got the spare key, and turned it in the lock.

The house had always been clean. Impossibly clean. But now it was sterile, there we no signs of life anywhere, Steve was a hurricane, opening draws, slamming them shut when he found them empty, banging doors wide only to find the room beyond bare. The fridge was bare, the bathroom shelves were unfilled, the house was hollow.

Without warning Steve sprinted up the stairs, smashing a door open. Jonathan followed slower, eye picking up on every non-detail he saw.

He followed Steve’s tumultuous mind to a room at the end of the corridor. This room wasn’t clean, wasn’t empty, and most definitely belonged to Steve. Before he took in the room, Jonathan made his way to the bed, sat down next to Steve, and pulled him into his lap, stroking his hair softly. The other man wasn’t crying, but he was sure on his way.

Jonathan spared him and looked around the room, there were posters covering almost every inch of the wall.

Michael Jackson’s Moonwalker poster, next to a Duran Duran one, and underneath that, in center stage, was Blondie. “It’s a surprise they didn’t know you were gay just based on your music taste,” Jonathan joked, trying to lighten Steve’s mood.

There were films too. Jaws above the bed, Blues Brothers on the back of the door. The Goonies above his desk. “You know, you remind me of one of the Goonies,” Jonathan said, and he felt Steve perk up and pay attention.

“Yeah?”

“That big ugly one.”

“Sloth?” Steve sat up, indignant. “SLOTH?”

Jonathan chuckled. “Well he did save the day.”

Steve cooled. “Yeah, I suppose he did.”

“I think he had the coolest scenes too. And nobody quotes any of the others do they? It’s all ‘Hey you guuuuuys’.” Jonathan mimicked.

Steve laughed, then sighed, replacing his head in Jonathan’s lap. “They were awful parents. I don’t know what I expected coming back here. I think I was hoping they’d still be here. It was never about clues or finding out who they were, I think I just needed to see them one last time.”

Jonathan didn’t know what to say.

“Is it bad that I still miss them?”

“I don’t think that’s bad at all.” Jonathan stroked Steve’s hair letting it fluff back before he pulled his fingers through it again.

“I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But they’re my only real reminder of before. Don’t get me wrong,” he said quickly. “I don’t want to go back to that person, that Steve was a real dick. But it was simpler. All I worried about was being popular.”

“Those were the days,” Jonathan said longingly. Even though Jonathan had been no one, with no friends and a boring life, he could see his point. Life _had_ been simple, Steve was right.

“I wouldn’t go back, you know,” Steve said solemnly. “I’d take the torture, the dead friends, the danger. I’d take it all if it meant I got you again.”

Jonathan didn’t have to hear his thoughts to know he was telling the truth. He looked down at Steve, staring up at him from his lap. “I’ll destroy anyone who wants to take this from us.”

They lapsed into silence. Jonathan could feel Steve reminiscing, letting the memories flow over them both. The arguments with his parents, sneaking out to go and kiss girls under the moon, hiding playboy magazines under his bed. It was part of who Steve was, those memories. Most of them were layered with teenage angst, confusion, repression. But it made him who he was today.

“You know there’s one thing that I never got to do in this room,” Steve said slyly.

“Oh?” Jonathan tried to probe his mind but it was hazy, like Steve was fighting him. “Since when wasn’t I allowed in your head?” He asked, put out.

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise…” Steve unzipped Jonathan’s pants.

***

They were both flush, red in the cheeks, and life brimming in their eyes. They were walking down the stairs, hand in hand, trying not to giggle.

Jonathan rubbed his throat with his free hand.

“Tasted a bit funny didn’t it?” Steve said with the sexiest smirk Jonathan had ever seen.

They reached the stairs and made their way towards the back door. Jonathan trying very hard not to think about what had just happened upstairs, Steve thinking about it in great detail. The yellow of the sky outside was beginning to tinge darker, it must have been past five now, almost sunset.

There was a muffled thud. They stopped, midway walking through the parlor. Steve lifted his foot and dropped it down onto the rug again, the noise resonated. He bent down and threw up the shag rug. There was a small notch in the hardwood flooring.

“A cellar?” Jonathan asked.

Steve’s voice was level, “We don’t have a cellar.” He hooked a finger into the notch and pulled, a section of about six wood panels lifted, attached to a hinge. Before Jonathan could advise him not to, Steve dropped down, ignoring the ladder.

It was a wine cellar, that much was clear by the shelving on the walls. But there was no wine in this cellar. Steve pulled the dangling chain connected to the raw lightbulb swinging near his head.

“Jesus Christ!”

Jonathan came sliding down the ladder with grace Steve could never hope to achieve. “Jesus Christ is right,” he agreed.

Where there should have been bottles, the shelves were stacked with dozens of guns. Handguns, shotguns, assault rifles, all neatly set, all fully loaded.

At the other end of the cellar was a small set of draws, Steve rifled through them. The top draw was full of money, thousands of dollars in fifty and hundred-dollar bills. The second draw had a bunch of ID’s in, all with Steve’s parents’ faces. And the third draw had a tiny black device in it. Steve took it out and turned it in his hands, it had a small screen, and nothing else, he supposed the back had a battery in it. Not knowing what it was, he pocketed it.

He looked back at Jonathan, who was staring at him looking as bewildered as he felt. “Who the fuck are my parents?”

And they would probably have discussed the possibilities of just who Steve’s parents might be, when there was a sharp knocking from above.

“Police, open up.”

***

They could probably have hidden in the cellar. But the officer would have eventually looked in through the window, saw the cellar door open, and come in. They could reach up and try and close the hatch silently, but the commotion would probably draw the officer’s attention, and he’d come in.

There were a bunch of duffle bags folded neatly next to the ladder. Jonathan picked one up and threw it at Steve. “Fill it,” he whispered.

Steve tried to keep his voice low, “With what?”

“Everything,” Jonathan hissed back.

They rustled around the cellar trying to be as quiet as possible, Jonathan filled his bag with rifles, while Steve filled his with cash and some of the smaller shotguns.

“Open the door!” the officer yelled.

Bags brimming with guns, ammo, and cash, Steve fixed his wild eyes onto Jonathan. “And what do we do about him?”

“I wanna try something.” Jonathan said, looking up the ladder. “I’ll make us invisible.”

“Invisible?”

“Not really invisible, just invisible to him,” Jonathan explained.

Steve pursed his lips. “What a perfect time to try something new, right?”

“Enough sarcasm Harrington. Head for the back door and we can sneak around him.” Jonathan began his climb, projecting the thought that the house was empty into the air around them. He didn’t know if it was working, he’d never tried it before. He was up, and out, and there were no shouts from the officer. Jonathan looked through the fogged glass of the door, there he was, Jonathan couldn’t recognize him through the glass but he was wearing the uniform.

Steve followed him out of the cellar and tiptoed behind him on the way to the back door, which wasn’t easy with a duffle bag over his shoulder. Something vibrated in his pocket and he reached down, pulled out the black device, and saw words flash across the screen. It vibrated again and slipped through his fingers.

He watched in slow motion as it fell through the air and landed on the wooden floor with a loud thunk.

The officer outside stilled, went silent, and kicked the door down with a bang. He was holding his gun aloft, pointed right at Steve, and in that moment, Steve really thought he might die, there was nothing warm in the officer’s eyes as his finger went to the trigger.

Jonathan stepped between them.

“Put the gun down,” he commanded. But it didn’t sound like Jonathan to Steve, it sounded like there were three people saying the same words all at once, Jonathan’s voice was layered with power.

The officer lowered the gun.

“You didn’t see anything here. There was no one at home,” Jonathan continued, stepping closer to the officer. “Wait fifteen minutes, get back in your car, and drive away. Don’t stop driving until your tank runs out of gas.”

The officer nodded. Jonathan felt dizzy, the exertion of his powers getting to him, sending a cold ache into the marrow of his bones.

Jonathan turned back to Steve, his eyes were frosted, his face was pale. “Let’s go,” his voice wasn’t commanding, wasn’t laced in power, but it still had a depth that made Steve _want_ to obey.

The officer’s radio crackled with white noise. “I’ll take that,” Steve said, swiping it on his way out the door. They got to the car, threw the duffels in the back, and skidded away from the Harrington house for the last time.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Dragon's Lair


	18. Dragon's Lair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up in Hawkins!

Only Nancy’s mom and her younger sister, Holly, were at home. The sky had purpled and dimmed, and there were lights on in the downstairs of the Wheeler house, but all was dark in the upstairs windows.

Jonathan climbed the ivy trellis on the side of the house to reach Nancy’s window, which was wide open, courtesy of Mike. This day had become much more physical than Jonathan had expected. He was climbing the outside of houses, stealing guns, and then there was what happened in Steve’s room.

Jonathan fought the thoughts, and the blush that came with them, away.

Once inside her bedroom, Jonathan looked back out to see if Steve was climbing. He wasn’t. He was still in on the ground, taking a few steps back and eyeing the open window.

“Don’t you dar-” Jonathan dove to the side as Steve took a run up, crouched, and leapt into the air, sailing through the second-story window with ease, and landing on his feet in Nancy’s room.

“Eight for bravery, six for form, and ten for pissing me off,” Jonathan ranked him.

“Jealous? Let’s see you jump that high.”

_Let’s see you save us from another police officer, hmmm?_

“Fair point,” Steve busied himself with piling up Nancy’s clothes while Jonathan collected some of the stolen technology and tools she’d requested.

As they were readying themselves to leave, Steve’s keen ears picked up on buzzing. The same buzzing from before.

He pinched the little black screen from his pocket. It was flashing again, this time with the word: COLUMBUS.

Jonathan looked at him, mirroring his confusion. With a shrug, he stashed the beeper, and bundled all of Nancy’s things together.

Steve rolled out the window and landed on one knee. “Show-boating ass,” Jonathan muttered, picking his way carefully down the trellis, weighed down by Nancy’s filled backpack.

They got in the car, Steve drove. Jonathan mumbled, “Oh look, I can jump real high, and run real fast, how exceptional.”

Steve laughed, making Jonathan’s irritation peak.

The radio Steve had stolen from the police officer crackled. He’d only taken it so the officer wouldn’t be able to call for backup, but here it was, with a second use. They could track the cops now. See what they were up to.

Florence’s voice was loud through the speaker:

“All units.”

This sounded juicy.

“Priority one call out.”

Surely they couldn’t be on to Nancy.

“Multiple reports of animal attacks.”

Jonathan looked up. Mouthing, Demogorgons.

“The Palace arcade. Casualties confirmed. All units.”

The kids.

Steve pulled the handbrake and the car screamed through a one-eighty turn. Coincidence was, in this case, not so coincidental. Steve hit seventy miles an hour before they got to the first set of traffic lights.

“Johnny, keep the cars out of my way.”

Jonathan didn’t respond, instead he closed his eyes and entered the mindscape. He stopped all the drivers at the upcoming lights. He made cars pull out of their lane. He imagined it looked like chaos outside, but all he saw were minds.

The road was clear and he pushed his boundary further, towards the arcade.

He opened his eyes, they were about a minute away. “It’s the experiments, they’re not real Demogorgons, but they’re feral, there’s nothing in their minds but bloodlust.”

“And the kids?” Steve was worried for them all, not just Will and Dustin, all of them meant something to him now, they were the dungeon party, and nobody got left behind.

“Too many minds. Couldn’t pick them out.”

The arcade came into view. There were three of the beasts scratching and slashing at the arcade doors. Along the street Jonathan saw still figures, their minds were dark, they were dead. At least a dozen.

Steve stopped the car in the middle of the street and jumped out, closely followed by Jonathan.

The beasts must have smelled them because they turned, growled, and left the doors, prowling towards them.

The two on the left were significantly smaller, they must have been small when they were human, and now they were small as part-Demogorgons, their minds were more chaotic than a human’s, but not as simple as the forest animals.

“I’ll take the two on the left, you take the big one,” Jonathan said. The big one in question was a huge beast, it’s mouth flapping open, sending luminescent drool across the tarmac. His mind was too out of control for Jonathan to even hope to deal with.

“You got it,” Steve flashed his fangs in a snarl, let his fingers sharpen into claws, and launched himself at the beast, slashing its side, punching it in the face. Jonathan was captivated, and would have watched Steve for longer, had someone not yelled from inside the arcade.

“Watch out!” It was Will, and he’d just saved Jonathan’s life.

The other two Demogorgons were coming at him full tilt, roaring as their feet hammered the ground.

_Stop breathing._

The things still charged at him. He cracked his neck, summoning the cold of the Upside-Down energy that remained latent in his blood.

_Stop breathing._

It wasn’t enough.

In a wave of ice that channeled through his blood Jonathan felt his mind explode with a limitless power.

_Die._

One Demogorgon slid past him on the left, the other on the right. They were both still, unbreathing. Jonathan had killed them with a mere thought. He was about to help Steve when a wave of dizziness caught him, sending him swaying.

Through his spinning vision Jonathan saw the last beast rear up onto its hind legs, about to crush Steve with its sheer weight.

No, he thought, and slapped his hand out through thin air. Something unseen collided with the beast and sent it flying a block down the street.

Darkness ate Jonathan’s vision as he stumbled towards Steve, and right as he blacked out, he felt the man’s arms around him.

***

“Hopper, all I’m saying is: if we hadn’t snuck out of the house, the kids would be dead.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Yeah well, I can’t not know that either.”

“Don’t use words to try and make me confused, Steve. I’m mad as hell.”

“It kinda sounds like you think the kids should have died is all I’m saying.” Jonathan hadn’t opened his eyes, but he could feel the contempt of Steve’s shrug.

“Steve,” Jonathan warned him, sounding as exhausted as he felt. He blinked his eyes open. He was in bed. If nothing else, at least this whole passing out thing meant he got carried to bed all the time. The only other people in the room were Hopper and his mom. He didn’t have the strength to cast his mind out and see who was in the rest of the house, he didn’t even have the strength to build his walls.

He couldn’t hear their thoughts clearly, they were muffled, as if they were talking into a pillow.

“The kids, they’re all okay?”

Joyce replied, keeling down and taking his hand, “They sure are, sweetie. You did good.”

Behind her Hopper nodded, and added, “Even if you technically shouldn’t have left the house.”

Steve rolled his eyes and Jonathan fought a smile. “But Eleven’s safe, right?” he asked with a buttery smile.

Hopper threw his arms up. “You boys are a nightmare. I’ll have an aneurism before Christmas Eve, you just watch.”

“Well, we knew they’d target us soon enough when they couldn’t get to the boys,” Joyce said primly. “There’s no point crying over it now.”

“Brenner can’t get in here though, can he?” Jonathan needed the reassurance with his powers out of commission.

“Nancy made more of her do-hickeys and extended the circle around the house, but all it’ll do to a human is burst their eardrums she reckons, not to mention, its close enough range that they could just shoot into the house.”

“But,” Joyce said, trying to be calm. Jonathan recognized it as the same voice she’d used when she told him Will’s body had been found. “They’re not the only problem.”

Disbelief coloring his voice, Steve asked, “What could possibly be worse than them?”

“It’s the town. The humans,” Hopper explained. “They know something’s not right, even if they won’t admit what, and you two have been seen three times. Once shooting up ‘coyotes’. The next time throwing a man into a nut cart. And then tonight, changing your eyes, fighting like an animal.” He held up his hands at Steve’s growl. “I get it, I do. I’m not saying you did a bad thing, but the town is starting to organize against things out of the ordinary.”

Jonathan’s stomach dropped. “They want to kill us?”

Hopper sighed, “They want the town to be safe again, and if they think that means a town without you…then yes, I’m worried they’ll do something stupid.”

“If we lay low for a while, until Nancy figures out a way to close the cracks, we’ll be fine.” His mom sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as any of the rest of them.

“Is Nancy here? I have something I need to tell you all,” Jonathan said quietly.

Steve ducked away to grab her, when they came back into his room and settled Jonathan told them about his vision, about the flames, the destruction. “Even if we lay low, even if we run away, it’s going to be too late.”

The weight of his words hung in the room like a death. It dragged at the bags under Hopper’s eyes. It pulled at Nancy’s unkempt hair, it seemed to pull at the Joyce’s very frame.

“But we can stop it, right?” Nancy asked, hopeful.

Jonathan shrugged and thought that honesty was the best approach. “I don’t know, but I know that if we do nothing we definitely won’t stop it. If we do nothing, we’re going to die. If we try and fix it, fight, we’re still probably going to die…” Jonathan trailed.

Joyce spoke with strength, “But I’d rather die with a gun in my hand than a tail between my legs.”

“Where do we even start?” Nancy looked around wildly, as if the answer might jump at her.

“We protect the town,” Steve spoke for the first time, locking eyes with Jonathan. “We protect it like we always have. Even if they don’t want it, we’ll work in the shadows, patrol the streets like we used to.”

Jonathan’s heart swelled. He hadn’t known if Steve was having second thoughts about sticking around, Jonathan knew he himself had considered running, and if it meant a life with Steve, it would have tempted him greatly to escape. But the fire would have caught up with them eventually.

“Well I’m not going to be able to sleep good until I figure out this whole map, seventeen-hundreds, monster connection thing, so I’m in.” Nancy leaned against the door, looking cooler than she ever had, as if she hadn’t just agreed to risk her life for people who wanted her arrested and thrown into jail.

The only one that was left was Hopper. The indecision was written all over his features. Eventually he reached his hand up to the badge on his chest, ripped it off, and dropped it onto the ground. “I won’t be needing that anymore.”

It was a warm moment for them all. Hopeless, they knew that. But even in hopeless times, the darkest moments felt just a little bit less daunting when you knew you weren’t alone.

Taking on the darkness by himself, that’s what truly terrified Jonathan. He was happy to battle at Steve’s side, get injured, maybe even die. It would be worth it, just to see Steve’s savage beauty one more time.

“We’re going to need weapons,” Hopper said.

Steve looked at Jonathan and winked. “I think we might be able to help out with that.” Steve had very few things to thank his parents for, but a car full of firearms was one of them.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Bait, Ambush, Ambushed.


	19. Bait, Ambush, Ambushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. I've been quite sick and had to go to the hospital for a bit. 
> 
> Not to worry, I should be back onto a regular posting schedule again! 
> 
> Please enjoy this monster 8,000 word chapter.

Joyce was driving, Hopper in the passenger seat. They figured Joyce’s car was the least likely to arouse suspicion around town. They drove to the store, passing half a dozen police cruisers on the way. There were other people patrolling the streets too, men and women dressed like anyone else, but their cold eyes gave them away, eyes that roamed their surroundings, searching.

“Parasites,” Joyce spat.

“They’re everywhere,” Hopper said, looking at the roof of the car. “Can’t trust anyone now.”

Joyce shrugged. “Never trusted anyone before.”

Hopper took a moment to think. “I probably trust you with my life.”

“Probably?” Joyce quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, definitely.”

“Mhmm.”

“You really make me work for it, Joyce. You know that?” He was on the verge of pouting.

Joyce pulled into to the grocery store and cranked the hand brake up. “If you don’t work for it Jim, then you’ll never deserve it.” She unbuckled her seat, and turned away, hiding her smile. “Now hurry up, we’ve got a whole house of bottomless pits to feed.”

After they stocked up on food (enough Eggos to last a month), they went to the appliance store, to get six microwave ovens (requested by Nancy), then on to the pharmacy, to grab a few boxes of painkillers (for Jonathan’s headaches).

The drive home was in relative silence, and Joyce could feel Hopper thinking. He began to get so restless that rather than watch him struggle internally, Joyce reached her free hand over and laid it on his leg, stilling his fidgeting.

Joyce stopped the car outside the invisible boundary. She honked the horn once. The lights on the spikes went out and she drove forward, honking twice when they were within the boundary. The lights flickered back on.

“Did you remember Eggos?” Eleven had taken to living at the Byers house well, it did her good to be around so many people all the time, Hopper thought, it would help her get ready to integrate into the world when all this was over.

“Yes Eleven, twelve boxes.” Joyce handed her the grocery bags and her eyes lit up.

“Did you get the microwaves?” Nancy’s once straight hair was now teased and frizzy, if Steve hadn’t practically picked her up and thrown her in the bathroom, she probably wouldn’t have showered in days.

“Yes Nancy, they were really expensive, I hope they’re worth it,” Hopper grunted, carrying all six ovens towards the house, their boxes wobbled on top of each other, ready to fall.

Jonathan was laid on the couch when Joyce walked in, he lifted his head and asked, “Painkillers?” with one eye squinted in pain. It took a toll on him, his new mind, but Joyce knew if anyone could handle it, it was her Jonathan.

“Only the best drugs for my boy.” She threw him a box, smiling. Her eyes fell onto Steve, curled up by Jonathan’s feet on the couch, sleeping soundly despite all the noise of the house around him. She stroked his poufy hair. My two monster boys, she thought fondly, and caught Jonathan’s smile.

Joyce’s attention was dragged away by an earsplitting crash from outside the back door. It didn’t surprise her really, sharing a bathroom with six other people made her want to destroy things too, but she thought she’d just check what exactly was being destroyed.

Will and Eleven stood in awe of Nancy, who had gotten all of the microwaves out of their boxes, placed them up in a clean white line, and dropped a sledgehammer on them in turn. The glass of the door blew out of the third microwave, the electrical insides going flying.

“Nancy Wheeler! If you’d wanted to get your stress out, there were cheaper ways. We could have gott you a punching bag!” Joyce reprimanded from the doorstep.

Nancy raised a hand, lifting her safety goggles. “I’ll pay you back Joyce, promise.” She then bent down and picked a thick black circle, just like a hockey puck, from each microwave corpse. She turned to the kids. “You’ll clean this up right?” She grinned and rushed back into the house, making a beeline for the dining room, which had quickly become her makeshift lab.

Joyce shook herself, took a few deep breaths, and moved on, unpacking the groceries. She could almost trick herself with some chores. Going to the grocery store to get food, it was normal, it was easy to think things were the same, that it was just another day in Hawkins. But then she’d come home and witness microwaves being destroyed on her lawn. It didn’t scare her anymore. What scared her was how little she was phased by it.

The walkie talkie on the table crackled. “Come in Will, it’s Mike, drop the forcefield. Lucas won’t come near, pussy.”

Joyce’s eyes went wide, she pushed in the button on the walkie. “If your mother knew you used language like that she’d wash your mouth out Mike Wheeler.”

There was a long pause on the end of the walkie, then, “Sorry Mrs. Byers, I didn’t know you’d pick up.”

Joyce smiled, these kids must have thought she’d never been young. She flicked off the switch on the wall, powering down the boundary, clicked the walkie and said, “All clear to come through Mike…Lucas should be safe.”

She waited for the kids to come tamping through her house, getting them all a drink ready. It was freezing outside and they’d need the warmth. Mike, avoiding Joyce’s eyes, Dustin, who threw himself on a couch, right at home, Max, shooting dirty looks in Lucas’s direction, who seemed oblivious.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Joyce asked, pouring them all a mug of hot chocolate.

All of the kids got sketchy. Avoiding her. “Anyone?” Silence. She zeroed in on Lucas. “You wouldn’t hide anything from me would you, Lucas?” She watched the panic flare in his eyes, the sweat build on his brow.

“Don’t you dare,” Max whispered to him, but it was already too late.

“TheythinkitsagoodideatotryandtrapsomeofthedemogorgonmonstersandIthoughtitwasabadideabutIcouldnttalkthemoutofitImsosorryMrsByers.” He looked completely and utterly relieved.

“You idiot,” Max cursed him.

Joyce peered at them with raised eyebrows. “This does sound interesting. Hopper, you two,” she yelled towards the back door, “You better come in here.”

Will and Eleven came in, not looking surprised in the least to find the other kids there. Nancy padded in from Jonathan’s bedroom, disheveled as ever, clutching her microwave hockey pucks. She didn’t even look up to see her brother, she went straight to the corner and began playing with a gun and the magnets, muttering to herself.

Mike gave her a typical disgusted-sibling face, and mimicked her, “Oh hey Mike, so happy you’re alive, I know you almost died the other day, and thanks for saving me while I was on the run from the police.”

Nancy lifted her head from the magnets only to flip him her middle finger, and then she was back to her tinkering.

Hopper strolled into the room. Joyce was getting used to seeing him out of his chief’s uniform. It had been strange at first. They’d known each other for years, but she hadn’t really seen casual-at-home Jim before. It was nice, he looked the perfect dad in his light blue jeans and too-tight polo.

“What’s up?” he asked, standing next to Joyce.

“Lucas was just telling us how the kids have a plan to trap some of the Demogorgons,” Joyce said sweetly.

Will and Eleven shot Lucas exasperated looks. Eleven shook her head and said, “Pussy.”

“Oi!” Hopper looked to her, then to Mike, gritting his teeth he ground, “Wheeler.”

Mike’s face went stark white and the tension in the room ramped.

“Did someone say pussy?” Steve mumbled from the couch softly, “Not for me thanks.” He unraveled himself and crawled over to lay across Jonathan.

Joyce hid her smirk, Jonathan was on the verge of laughter, and even Nancy, as busy as she was, tried to calm her shaking shoulders from sucking in a laugh.

The only person not remotely diffused, was Hopper.

“Back to the plan that will probably get you killed?” Joyce prompted.

“Nobody was going to die,” Will assured them.

“Simple really,” Dustin said with ease, putting his feet up on the table, and moving them swiftly back down at Joyce’s glare. He continued, “We know they’re after Steve and Jonathan. But they can’t get to them here. We also need to get rid of them, so we bait ourselves, flush them out. You guys burst in, take them down. Simple.”

“It’s a win-win,” Mike said, and Hopper sent him a glare for good measure.

“And where were you planning this great trap?” Hopper didn’t sound convinced.

“The school. Big open space,” Eleven piped up.

“No one would be in any real danger,” Will followed on.

“Well, it’s hardly a concrete plan,” Joyce said, “And I don’t like the idea of putting you kids in danger.” The tone of her voice was leading, almost convinced. “But we have to do something. And if we’re in control, at least we have the advantage.”

She looked to Hopper who gave a begrudging nod back. “Fine. But I want us at our peak. That means more training boys,” he directed his voice where Jonathan and Steve were coddled. They both nodded. “And Nancy, some tricks would be great.”

Nancy looked at them, clear safety goggles wonky on her nose, a magnet in each hand, letting a bullet float evenly between them. “Tricks. I can do tricks.”

***

Late afternoon found the young kids, plus Jonathan and Steve in the backyard of the Byers house.

The sun had dipped below the trees and the kids’ breath was visible, all of them were bundled in multiple layers, coats, hats, and scarves.

Meanwhile Steve wore a singlet and some grey sweatpants, and Jonathan wore a baggy top with some ripped jeans.

“Jonathan.” Eleven pointed at him and he stepped forward.

“Want me to find something with my mind?” he asked her, prepping the elasticity of his powers, ready to expand.

“No.” She gestured to a half-dead leaf next to her foot. “Move it.”

Jonathan was stumped. He’d used telekinesis twice. He’d snapped a man’s neck, and he’d thrown the deformed beast off of Steve when they’d fought at the arcade. But he’d never really meant to. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t control it. His mind was easy, he knew on instinct what to do. Moving things was beyond him.

But he wasn’t going to quit. He knew how useful it would be to learn. So he waved his hand at the leaf. Nothing happened. He tried again and it lifted a little, his eyes snapped up to Eleven’s.

She shook her head. “Wind.” She was right, the rest of the leaves around them were being rustled by the wind.

“Give me a minute, go to Steve,” Jonathan tried not to sound irritated, but the frustration leaked into his voice. The added pressure of all the kids watching wasn’t helping either. He tried again.

Eleven had walked over to Steve, who was stretching. “Running?” he asked.

“No. You can already do that.” She shook her head, confused. “You need to learn new things.”

Steve shrugged. “You got it boss, what next?”

“Control,” she said, leading him to a thick oak tree. “Claws out.”

Steve did as commanded, and with a flick of his fingers, his nails had sharpened into claws. “You want me to learn control?”

“No,” Eleven said again. “You need to lose it.”

“Lose it?” Steve sounded unsure. He’d lost control once before, in the facility, and dozens of people were dead. That insatiable need that shadowed him everywhere, begging to be unleashed. “No. I won’t.”

Eleven touched his arm, stopping them from shaking. “You must.”

Steve didn’t know if that was true. He’d been a match for the beast at the arcade. Yes, but _only_ a match, he argued with himself. If he was going to beat these things, destroy them and make the town safe, he was going to need to be better, faster, stronger.

Maybe giving in was the way. He thought of it as blood rage. He was down to completely primal instincts. Logical thought was out, his capacity for thinking was limited to almost nothing. “What if I can’t come back?” he whispered to Eleven so no one else could hear.

“I came back. I come back,” Eleven’s voice was just as hushed. He’d seen her in action, he hadn’t forgotten. She’d killed with a thought. But she always seemed to be Eleven again after.

“How?”

“Anchor.”

Steve didn’t know what she meant. “Anchor?”

“What’s Steve’s anchor? What’s his reason for coming back out of the power?” she spoke like he wasn’t there.

Steve thought, he knew the answer really, he just didn’t want to be cliché and come to it immediately. His anchor could have been his desire to make the town safe, or protect the kids, Dustin, Mike, Will. He knew his anchor would be a brunette. No matter how hard he tried to make his life not like a romance movie, Steve couldn’t resist some of the tropes.

He nodded to Eleven. “Got it.”

“Good. Cut the tree down.” She pointed to the huge oak.

Steve didn’t argue. Eleven wouldn’t have listened. Instead he flicked his claws out, let his fangs lengthen, and he growled. He felt the rage building, the instinct kicking in, and the power flooding his limbs. But instead of going mindless, he found himself in between. Like the ocean was power, and the sky was Steve, and he was floating on his back, half in, half out.

He raked a claw across the bark, taking a huge chunk out. He slashed with his other hand, leaving a big gouge in the soft wood. With a roar he began flinging his arms as fast as they would go, slicing the tree over and over, he could smell the friction of his claws on the wood, could see the mites scurrying from underneath the bark. He didn’t stop. Didn’t relent. He let his blood rage fuel him until the tree was clinging together thinly, and then, quick as a flash, he stepped back and kicked the tree, keeping his leg at ninety degrees to the ground, parallel. He didn’t even know he could get a kick that high. But he brought it back down gently, and felt himself rise from the ocean, away from the rage, and back to cohesive thought.

The tree groaned, splintered, and fell away from the house landing with a boom, and sending animals darting in all directions.

“I’m not even going to ask!” Joyce yelled from inside the house.

The kids watched him, mouths wide, and clapped. Eleven looked impressed. “A…minus.”

“I’ll take it.” Steve patted her shoulder and they turned to Jonathan, who had his eyes closed, but mouth pulled into a thin frustrated line.

I can do this, Jonathan told himself.

It didn’t work like his mind abilities. He couldn’t force this. He shouldn’t have been mad at himself at all, and he knew Steve would tell him off for getting angry with himself. It wasn’t like they’d been given a manual for their powers. They’d had to figure out for themselves, and who knew the limits of their powers, their triggers, their purpose.

His thoughts were getting away with themselves. He reigned his mind in. Overthinking wasn’t going to get him to telekinesis any quicker.

He blew out a long breath, letting his thoughts blow with it.

What if it was like the bird. The less he tried, the easier it had been to fly. The wings had known what to do, he just needed to give them a bit of a push.

He didn’t think about his power, he just held his hand out and imagined the leaf rising through the air.

He opened his eyes and there it was, right in front of him, the four-pronged leaf twisted in the air as if held by an invisible hand. It was exhilarating, just as flying had been.

The grass was covered in leaves from the woods right next to them. Feeling cocky Jonathan held out his other hand and imagined all of the leaves around them floating.

Like a breeze coming from underground, the leaves slowly picked up, lifting into the air and hovering, as if they were frozen in time.

The kids were looking around them, pulling the leave out of the air, or sending them spinning.

But Steve only had eyes for Jonathan. Between the floating leaves he locked eyes with him. And Jonathan read everything he needed to know from his face, not his mind. Desire, animalistic want.

It went to his head, impressing Steve, exerting real power. He looked at the huge recently-fallen tree.

This would be harder, he thought.

But why? Another voice in his head countered. Why should this be any different. His physical strength wasn’t tied to his mind, his powers. If he believed himself capable of it, he could do it.

And so as the edge of the sun crested below the horizon, and the world was full of floating leaves, Jonathan imagined the huge trunk lifting into the air.

It was magical really, metaphorically and figuratively. “Limitless,” Jonathan heard as the trunk raised off the forest floor, rising higher. “The perfect creation.” The voice wasn’t Steve’s. Wasn’t any of the kids’, and it certainly wasn’t his own, but it sounded close, as if someone was speaking directly into his ear. It was the silky voice, the cold voice, the voice that had told him to kill, back at the facility.

Whoever’s voice it was, it shouldn’t have been able to get to him through the magnetic field around the house. The voice had made him almost kill someone, had made him _want_ to kill someone. He walled off his mind, let his powers drop, and with them dropped the leaves and the massive tree trunk.

He didn’t let his shaken mind show on his face, he put on a smile. Steve would know, Steve always knew when he was hiding things. But he could manage explaining to Steve.

What he would explain he didn’t know. What was there to explain? A voice had come to him out of thin air, twice now. He didn’t know who it belonged to, couldn’t follow it. His biggest fear was that the voice was his own, that it was his own mind whispering…wanting to kill.

***

They were into the second day of planning the trap.

It was raining again. It seemed like it always rained nowadays. Nancy looked out through the kitchen window, her spikes were lit, her first real success in this new world of science and dimensions. If only she could perfect a weapon. She tried to not beat herself up, honestly, she did. But it wasn’t easy to be happy, not with the threat of the Demogorgons pressing down upon them. And sure, Steve and Jonathan and Eleven could fight them, but that was only three.

She needed to arm the rest of them. She needed to arm herself. Bullets slowed the Demogorgons down. A ton of bullets might even stop one. But Nancy was trying to get ahead of the game, it was the only way to win. And if Jonathan and Steve had managed to get powers out of the trials, who else was out there that might have some powers too.

She thought back to the file, she’d memorized it now. There was the Drow, the first success. That was out there. Possibly under Brenner’s control, probably not. And the Juiblex, that had been a partial success, so who knew what that meant, was it alive, or did the partial mean it had worked, but died shortly after. The Lich, something about the name sent a shiver through Nancy. The warning that had been attached to that page only strengthened her aversion. Something had gone horribly wrong with the Lich, but what?

 The unanswered questions kept Nancy awake at night.

Joyce sidled up next to her, taking the cold mug of tea from her hands and replacing it with a piping hot one. “You alright?”

Nancy hummed back, nodded. She felt Joyce put an arm around her shoulder.

Joyce spoke softly, “You’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders right now, Nancy.”

“Are you going to tell me not to? That everything’s going to be okay?” Nancy snorted.

“No. It’s not going to be okay. And everyone _is_ relying on you,” she said simply.

“But?”

“But you can rely on us too.” Joyce rubber her shoulder, patted it, and walked back into the lounge.

It was late. Will and Eleven had gone to bed, Jonathan was levitating a bunch of marbles in his hands while Steve gazed, like a cat after a piece of string. Hopper was sat in the chair watching TV, and Joyce was reading a book.

Nancy walked into the lounge and addressed the room at large. “I need to run one small, very insignificant experiment.”

It had been too long since she’d talked. Her hermit behavior had taken something away from her. Her social tools were rusty, and her wheels needed to be oiled.

“Not on me,” Hopper said, reclining in his chair.

“I don’t think so.” Joyce curled her feet under her and dragged a blanket over her body.

“No actually, it’s the boys I need.”

“Knew it,” Steve said with distain written all over his face.

“You always experiment on us,” Jonathan sulked.

“Yeah well, you get mutated into half-breed monsters, you suffer the poking and prodding.” Nancy got up and busied herself around her mound of things in the corner. There was a pile of junk in most corners of the house now, her piles of junk. They looked messy, but she had it all organized in her head.

She got the electro-battery pack she’d stolen from the Department of Energy, a sharp carving knife from the kitchen, a fork, and a ball of wires.

The room watched her work, not daring to interrupt her. She wound a tight coil of wire around the hilt of the knife, making sure it touched the metal blade. She did the same with the fork, connecting them both to the wire prongs on the battery pack.

She flipped the battery on and it hummed. She passed the fork to Jonathan. “Hold that.”

As he took the fork, Jonathan jumped a little and the marbles dropped from the air.

“What?” Nancy said immediately. “Does it hurt?”

Jonathan gripped the fork tightly. “No, I guess not. I just tickles, painfully.”

Nancy nodded, suspicions confirmed, she took the fork off Jonathan. “And Steve, this is gonna hurt a little, but you heal quickly.” Instead of passing Steve the knife, when he held out his hand, Nancy made a small nick on the top of his finger.

The effect was immediate, Steve collapsed to the ground. Nancy pulled the knife away and Jonathan rushed to his side.

“Nancy!” Jonathan yelled at her.

She shrugged. “Had to be done.” Steve was back on his feet. “What happened?” she asked him.

“You cut me that’s what happened!” He was distraught.

“Yes,” Nancy waved him away, “but how did it feel?”

Steve composed himself. “Well, it was sort of like all my energy was being pulled out of my body.”

“Through the cut?” Nancy peered at him closely.

“Yeah, through the cut.”

Nancy sat back down, bloody knife still in her hand. “It’s like I thought. We have to penetrate the skin, get to the blood, the insides, before we can weaken them.”

“So how do we cut them? We can’t all just run up to them with knives,” Steve said sulking, nursing his cut hand.

“How’re we looking on guns?” Nancy asked Hopper.

“Well we’re not gonna run out of guns anytime soon that’s for sure. Thanks to Steve and his mysterious duffle bags full of illegal weapons,” Hopper raised his voice and probed Steve with his eyes, but the teenager just smirked.

“Guns aren’t gonna cut it though,” Nancy stated, even though everyone in the room knew it. “I’ve got a couple of ideas, but I need some help.” She looked to Joyce who was smiling at her over her book.

The marbles hovered around Jonathan’s hand and he focused on Nancy, even Steve sat up, ready to listen.

“We need to get an electromagnetic pulse around them, preferably into them, their bloodstream.”

“Like the boundary wall?” Steve asked.

Nancy nodded. “Just like that, but we need it to be weaponized. I can’t just go a bash a Demogorgon on the head with one of those spikes and expect to live. We need a projectile.”

“A bullet?” Hopper chimed in.

“That would be ideal, but right now, I don’t have a way of generating the field without it being connected to a power source, and we can’t just attach each bullet to a plug socket can we.”

The lounge was alive with the electricity of their thoughts.

“Let’s rule out the bullet. That’s too hard,” Jonathan stated, and Nancy begrudgingly had to agree, she wanted the bullets solved, partly so they could all kill the creatures easier, but mostly so she’d have a sure-fire way of defending herself. She was a liability on the battlefield.

“What about a harpoon gun?” Steve said excitedly. “When my dad used to drag me fishing with him, he’d have a harpoon gun on board.”

Hopper leaned back in his chair. “Easy to attach a wire, the cable’s already there.”

“And it would be one hell of a bitch to get out.” Jonathan winced at the thought of one going through his body and hooking the other side, unable to be pulled through either way.

“But that still leaves us with the original problem. How do we get the electricity mobile?” Nancy sighed.

The silence drew on, exhausting their minds by running in circles of things that wouldn’t work, instead of a possible solution.

Until Joyce dropped her book and dashed out of the room.

They looked at each other. Hopper shrugged.

Joyce returned a few moments later carrying the best Halloween costume she’d ever made. It was simple, yet elegant. Nancy immediately understood what Joyce saw. The Ghostbuster costume   
Will had worn for Halloween was the solution.

A backpack. Like the Ghostbuster’s proton packs, Nancy could fit out a backpack with a battery. Probably a car battery actually, now the idea was coming together in her mind. With the battery on someone’s back, they could easily attach it to a harpoon and shoot. It was messy. It wasn’t ideal. But it would work.

Nancy explained it to the boys, who were all slow thinkers apparently.

Hopper liked the idea. He said he was headed out to get a couple of harpoon guns from the fishing store, but as he put on his coat Joyce reminded him it was late, and that everywhere in town would be closed. Nancy felt Joyce’s mental eye roll strongly. Men. The worst.

There was a satisfied feeling in the air, or maybe it was just in Nancy’s head, she didn’t mind either way.

***

It was like waiting for your plane at the airport terminal. Not that Jonathan had ever been on a plane. Or been to an airport, actually. But he thought this is what it might have been like. No one talked, no one had anything to say. Steve, Jonathan, Nancy and Hopper all sat in the lounge, forcibly trying to remain still. It was just after ten in the morning. Joyce had dropped off the kids at school and then gone to grab some last-minute additions they needed.

Hopper was unnecessarily cleaning the barrel of his rifle for the sixth time.

Steve’s blinks had turned into long periods of closed eyes as he drifted into an uneasy nap. Jonathan envied him, he’d taken to nervously searching the area around the house with his mind, occasionally dipping into the mind of a squirrel. It was strange to see the forest from the ground, the world was so vast, and yet it didn’t overwhelm the little creatures.

Nancy wasn’t even tinkering. She’d dropped all her tools and wires; her hands were shaking too much. She’d done her work well. There were two battery backpacks, now attached to long slender harpoon guns leaning against the wall, the traditional rope cables had been switched out for braided copper wire. She’d use one, Hopper would use the other. There were a few other inventions on the table, one she was dubious would work, Magnetron Bombs, she was calling them. Those microwaves had really come in handy. There was also what looked like a bundle of wires knitted into an uncomfortable-looking blanket, folded into a neat pile on the floor.

The walkie on the table crackled.

Hopper jumped to his feet, rifle in hand. Nancy grabbed the powerpacks. Steve’s eyes opened, pupils slitted and glowing green. Jonathan left the squirrel’s mind, summoning the car keys through the air.

“They’re here,” Mike said through the walkie talkie.

***

It was hard to focus on linear equations when you knew the possibility was high that monsters were on their way to kill you.

But Dustin persevered. He did his calculations (most of them incorrectly), while he shot furtive glances out the windows. His blood was fizzing with excitement. He’d learned to endure the fear that came with these situations.

It felt like just yesterday he was a loser nerd with no teeth. And now he was here, saved the town twice, gorgeous set of pearls, even if he did say so himself, and ready to defend Hawkins once more. He wished Troy and James could know that they owed the Dungeon Party their lives. But he guessed that wasn’t what being a hero was about. Although it wouldn’t hurt to get a little fame, Dustin thought.

He made his way to science with Mr. Clarke.

It was probably his favorite class, but not even chemical reactions could keep his attention today. Mr. Clarke was discussing the properties of reactive metals and water, but Dustin was lost in his thoughts.

His life had never been in more danger than it was nowadays. And he felt more alive for it. Will going missing had set off a crazy chain of events that had left Dustin sad, angry, scared, and happy.

He’d been sad when Will had vanished, when Eleven had died, when D'artagnan had killed his cat. He still couldn’t believe Dart ate Mews. He’d loved that little slug demon. Judas.

Anger had filled him when he’d found out Will’s body was fake, when Eleven had been experimented on, but most of his anger was directed towards the adults of the town who refused to accept what was going on.

There hadn’t been a period of longer than a few days where Dustin hadn’t experienced crippling fear, sometimes it was in flashbacks to the tunnels under the town, or facing down a Demogorgon.

But there had been happy times too. In Steve he’d found someone to look up to, a mentor though the tough times. And there was the rest of the Dungeon Party, with the new additions of Max, and Nancy. There was something that bound them all together, even Mrs. Byers and the chief. They were equals in this fight against the other dimension.

They still wouldn’t let Dustin carry a gun. He’d asked. Twice.

Class ended with Dustin successfully avoiding any learning or work. He went to the cafeteria, their designated meeting spot for recess.

Will, Mike, Eleven, Max, Lucas, and Dustin sat at one of the long tables. The morning recess bell had rung without incident. It was raining outside so pretty much the whole school was crammed into the cafeteria, their breaths covering the windows in condensation almost immediately.

They were all on edge, jumping at the slightest noise, the door opening, someone dropping their Walkman at the next table. Max flipped a zippo lighter open and closed repeatedly, like it was a tick she was getting out of her system. It was exhausting being this tense, this ready, especially when there was no sign of anything remotely other-dimensional.

The bell rang to end recess, and the students began swarming for the doors.

The six of them got up and started shuffling in the same direction. They were almost at the doors, when Eleven stopped, going rigid.

This is what they’d been waiting for, it was happening.

The rest of the students trickled out of the cafeteria until they were alone.

 “Too many,” Eleven whispered, spinning around and looking towards the clouded windows.

There were shapes moving on the other side, like shadows against a white sheet, the most terrifying hand-puppet show ever seen.

Mike fumbled with the walkie, his fingers shaking. “They’re here,” his voice broke.

They edged their backs flat against the closed doors and watched the shapes. They were almost feline in their movements, on all fours by the looks, and moving slowly.

“C-cafeteria,” Mike whispered into the walkie.

The shadows outside stopped moving. Their continuous grey line of shadows was split in the middle. They watched, unable to move as something shifted between the gap. Something tall. Something on two legs.

“Oh shit,” Dustin cursed.

It practically pressed itself against the glass, a pitch-black silhouette, what nightmares were made of. A fully-grown Demogorgon.

Lucas let out a whimper as the monster opened up its wide face like a flower blooming, a flower with a thousand teeth all hungry for blood.

The doors to the kitchen opened and a sweet sigh of relief escaped Dustin’s lips, they were saved.

But it wasn’t Nancy. It wasn’t anyone he recognized. What was familiar though, hauntingly so, was the luminous green glow of their eyes.

***

They piled out of the car.

The school was quiet. They’d parked near the large glass windows of the cafeteria, but they were fogged, and they couldn’t see in. There were no monsters in sight. They must have moved inside.

Jonathan picked up two handguns and tucked them into his belt. They wouldn’t do any serious damage to a pure Demogorgon, but they’d certainly slow it down.

Steve flicked out his claws and dropped his fangs.

Hopper lifted his harpoon pack on, sliding some spare spears into the loops on the side of the backpack. He picked up an assault rifle and cocked it.

Nancy slung the powerpack onto her back and lifted her harpoon gun, resting it against her shoulder. She passed a round device to Steve, who looked at it, uncertain. It was one of the magnetic hockey puck looking things from the microwaves, but Nancy had fitted it out with a dozen double A batteries, wired it together, and placed a motor with a switch on the bottom.

“Magnetron Bomb.” Now that her hands were free, Nancy clipped the knitted bundle to her belt and readied her harpoon gun, pulling the wire around the spear tightly.

Jonathan switched on both Hopper and Nancy’s packs, their hum sinking into the air and making him tingle uncomfortably.

“Ready?” Hopper asked.

“Born ready,” Steve growled.

“As I’ll ever be.” Jonathan reached out with his mind, mapping the area.

“Let’s fuck shit up,” Nancy spat. Causing all three men to look down the line at her, stunned. She primed the harpoon and stalked forward.

They followed. This was Nancy’s show, they were just the backup dancers.

Jonathan found them, the monsters. “Four half-breeds, all looking pretty strong.” He gulped. “And one Demogorgon.” They hadn’t faced a Demogorgon in a long time, and Jonathan was worried his abilities would fail him. He closed in on the Demogorgon’s mind. It was green, like Steve’s, only it was fully lit, giving off waves of energy. He couldn’t read it, couldn’t enter it. “The kids are at the back of the kitchens, safe by the looks.” There was something hazy about his mind’s vision of the kitchen, there didn’t seem to be any minds other than the familiar lights of the kids’, but something wasn’t quite right.

“We have to get them out of the cafeteria and away from the kids,” Steve was in predator mode, his voice dark.

“Turn on the Magnetron Bomb,” Nancy told him, pointing at the thing she’d passed him.

Steve flipped it over in his hands and flicked the switch. The motor whirred and it began spinning. He felt it crushing against his skin, the weakness begging to be let in. He shivered.

“Magnetron Bomb?” Steve asked, holding it further away from his body.

“Technically it’s a magnetron field generator. Now throw it through the window.”

Steve did as Nancy commanded and the device sailed through the air, smashing one pane of glass into a million pieces. It was hard to see inside. There were shapes moving but nothing identifiable. Then there was a deafening roar bordering on screech. It was the sound of one pissed-off Demogorgon.

It left an eerie quiet in the air.

Jonathan aimed his two guns at the smashed window, Hopper and Nancy both had their harpoons aimed in the same direction. Steve bent his knees, ready to run.

The windows around the smashed one exploded and four Demogorgon hybrids hurtled their way towards them.

Dazed, Jonathan took a moment to pick one, trying to aim for the closest. He unloaded both clips in the direction of the beast. It took a couple to the shoulder and one to the body, but kept charging, unphased.

Steve dashed off to meet one between them, clashing with it and sending them both tumbling in a mess of claws. He sank his fangs into the beast’s throat, tasted the tainted blood. It ignited the hunger in his soul. He pulled back and ripped a strip of skin from its neck, guzzling the blood down. It was ruined by the monster’s DNA, but he clung to the human taste of it. He tore the head off the creature, throwing it down, and moving on to the next one.

The other three monsters were more reserved, Jonathan had wounded one, Steve had killed one, they prowled alongside the broken windows.

“Jonathan, the one you hit, shoot to the right of it, make it run left,” Nancy commanded.

Jonathan did just that, and the beast, as expected, dashed left.

Nancy took a deep breath, blocking out all the noise around her until all she could hear was the rush of air through her nose. She looked down the shaft of the shining harpoon and pulled the trigger. The compressed gas released, sending the harpoon slicing through the air, trailing a live wire behind it, like a piece of string attached to the foot of a hawk.

The harpoon sank deep into the skin of her target, the beast.

It fell with a gurgled scream. She reached a hand behind her and spun the dial on her backpack, ramping up the voltage. The monster didn’t react. Dead.

She unwound the wire from the power source and quickly tied another wire to the next harpoon she was loading.

Hopper was following one of the monsters with his gun, brandishing it wildly every time the monster leap, avoiding the crosshairs. He fired the gun making a hiss as the harpoon left the tunnel of the gun. It missed, clattering into the exposed brick of the side of the cafeteria, glancing off and falling to the ground.

“Shit.” He tried to reload as fast as he could.

This time when the Demogorgon roared, they all shook. It had a way of entering the ear, cascading across the mind, and reverberating into every inch of a person, shaking their core. The Magnetron Bomb flew out the window, landing on the ground, switched off, no longer sending out waves of pain to the inter-dimensional creatures.

It emerged, picking its way through the sharp edges of the broken windows.

The monsters were outnumbered. But that wasn’t exactly comforting. One Demogorgon had the fighting power of an army.

“I can’t get into its head,” Jonathan cried out. He’d been trying, pushing everything he had into taking over the monster’s mind, but it was a steel trap, no weaknesses, no point of entry.

“The others,” Steve spat, blood spraying from his covered lips. “Use the others.”

Jonathan pushed his mind into the smaller of the two hybrid beasts, easily entering it. His view was similar to what Steve saw when he transformed. The world was lit green. He could smell everything from the dead beast’s blood, to Nancy’s shampoo, over ten meters away. He didn’t know how Steve coped.

He fixed his eyes onto the Demogorgon. There were waves coming off its mind that he could see. Commands, controls. The Demogorgon wasn’t just a higher rank, it had earned the necessary ability to control other, weaker pups.

Jonathan had to battle against the control. The Demogorgon wanted the beasts to attack the humans. Specifically, Steve. The Demogorgon feared Steve. Jonathan wouldn’t let that happen. Not today.

In the monster’s body, Jonathan howled, bounded towards the master creature, and began clawing and biting.

With one swipe of his giant hand, the Demogorgon sent the pup flying, smashing into a car, where it was still. Jonathan could still feel the life in it, faint, but there. Unable to move, to think.

He left the Demodog’s body, gasping and falling to the hard concrete. He’d almost died in there, or at least, he’d almost felt death.

The other beast was running at them full tilt. Nancy and Hopper tracked it with their harpoons, but it was moving too fast.

From the ground, Jonathan raised a hand, he wasn’t sure if it was his telekinesis or his mind control, but the beast stopped, as if it had run into an invisible concrete wall.

Both Nancy’s and Hopper’s harpoons sailed through the air and punctured the beast right through. They upped the voltage on the electromagnets. Jonathan felt the life flicker out.

That left only one. The Demogorgon. It roared a last time and charged.

From the corner of his powers Jonathan felt a new mind enter their field of vision, but he was still too out of it to focus. Steve was readying himself for a fight, a fight he knew he’d lose. Nancy and Hopper couldn’t reload their harpoons fast enough. Hopper gave up and aimed his assault rifle at the Demogorgon, firing a spray of bullets that hit their mark, but bounced off the Demogorgon’s hide.

Steve ran out, slashing a claw across the monster’s face. Jonathan couldn’t hear anything, it was either silent, or his ear drums couldn’t handle the sounds of Steve and the monster tearing each other apart. Steve was losing. Quickly. The Demogorgon showed no sign of injury, no sign of weakness. But Steve was almost done, his arms were slowing, as if they were travelling through thick syrup instead of air.

That’s when Jonathan heard it. His own name, yelled right into his mind.

***

Joyce Byers picked up the harpoon next to the windows. It was bent out of shape. It must have missed and hit the wall. She didn’t waste any time. She saw Jonathan, crouched on the ground and with one single thought she reached out to him, hoping it would get his attention.

His eyes snapped up and met hers.

Joyce drew on her high school memories of being the javelin champion. She took a step back, then ran forward, aiming the spear high. The monster turned to look at her, but it was too late, the spear left her hand with all the force she could muster.

It was going to fall short, when it received a powerful burst of speed. She’d known Jonathan would understand.

The spear arced gracefully, peaking, and then angled downward.

The Demogorgon was too slow.

The harpoon entered through its chest and came out the other side, anchoring it to the ground.

Steve crawled away. “Nancy, NUKE IT!”

Nancy dove, landing on the ground hard, but she grasped Hopper’s discarded wire, wrapping it around the electric hook on her backpack and charged the electromagnet as high as the voltage would go.

The Demogorgon screamed an unearthly sound, and exploded in a puff of black spores.

Joyce dashed over to her family, they were all in various states, Steve was clutching at his side, where a steady stream of blood flowed. Jonathan had risen to his feet, but leant on a nearby car for support. Nancy was grazed, but otherwise unharmed. And Hopper had the ghost of a look in his eyes, like he was stuck in a dream.

“The kids. Where are the kids?” Joyce asked, worried.

“It’s fine,” Jonathan panted. “They’re coming now…”

All five of them looked to the broken glass of the cafeteria. Dustin came out, followed by Will, Eleven, Mike, Lucas, and Max. None of them were smiling.

In fact, Joyce thought, even from this distance, they looked scared.

More people followed them out. Three teenagers. Each with claws. Each with glowing green eyes. Their fanged grins were alive with glee.

“Carol?” Nancy squeaked. “Vicki, Tina? What the hell?”

The missing girls, all presumed dead, grinned wider.

“Hey Wheeler, miss us?”

Joyce became aware of other kids, regular human kids, in the windows of the school, peeking out the doors, watching them all.

“Should have known you’d turn for Brenner, Carol. Any chance to get attention.” Nancy spat at the ground, making her hatred clear.

Carol laughed. “Who’s Brenner? And it wasn’t only me who took the opportunity. Look who I recruited.” She gestured Vicki and Tina, flanking her. “Just us girls, back together again.”

Nancy’s eyes were sharp, without turning to Jonathan she whispered out the corner of her mouth. “Will’s left foot.”

Jonathan looked, there at Will’s feet was the Magnetron Bomb. Switched off, but hopefully still in one piece.

Jonathan broadcasted his thoughts to all the kids, stopping his range just short of the three teenage hybrid bitches.

_Eleven, get ready. Give them all you’ve got._

_Will, switch on the machine at your feet when I say._

_The rest of you, get ready to run._

The other kids tensed.

_Three._

Will dropped to the ground in a fit of fake crying and fear.

_Two._

Eleven turned to eye her three captors.

_One._

Will flipped the switch. Jonathan focused his telekinetic energy on the bodies of all three hybrid girls, sending it out in a wave with his hand. Eleven let loose with her energy.

The chicks went flying back into the cafeteria, smashing through another fresh plate of glass.

Nancy hoped the glass got stuck in some _very_ personal places.

“Quickly,” Joyce said as the kids came rushing over. “We have to get out of here now.” Her urgency was only highlighted by the sounds of sirens in the distance.

They started to pile into Hopper’s truck and Joyce’s car. Everyone squeezing in, forgetting about injuries and comfort. They knew what awaited them if the police arrived.

“Wait!” Nancy shouted, opening the back door of Hopper’s truck and jumping out as he was reversing. He slammed on the breaks just in time.

They watched her run, sliding over the bonnet of a car. She unhooked the knitted wire from her belt and threw it wide. Each strand of the wire seemed to catch an imaginary light, sending it glittering like diamonds. It was a blanket. No. It was a net. It fell around the small Demodog.

Nancy hooked the net around it, and dragged it back to the truck with her. It must have been quite heavy, but she hefted it with ease and threw it into the back of the truck.

“Go!” she yelled, slamming the door shut behind her. She had plans for the beast. Experiments. She needed to know more about what made them tick, and the opportunity had been too good to pass up.

From the tangle of bodies in the back Mike piped up. “Who even are you?”

Deadpan Nancy replied, “A stone cold bitch with nothing to lose. Now do up your seatbelt.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The Dream


	20. The Dream

_The night before Bishop travelled to find his new home he had a peculiar dream. So frightful that he woke sweating._

_He couldn’t shake the cold no matter how hot his fire burned._

_It was this bone-aching cold he learned to live with his entire life._

_He wasn’t concerned by his chill, or the open widow letting snow drift in._

_He didn’t care for the people of Boston._

_If his mother had still been alive, he wouldn’t have cared for her either._

_One thought had latched itself onto Bishop’s mind. One thought alone._

_He had to move West._

_There was something in the West. Something that called to him. His life depended on it._

_The thought worked its way into Bishop’s mind until it consumed him._

_It gripped at his consciousness and unconsciousness. Gripped at him like tentacles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Cinemascope


	21. Cinemascope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers, 
> 
> I'm so sorry for the break. I didn't mean to. 
> 
> Without spinning you a tale as long as this one, I fell for a guy and it took up my whole life. Sadly, the guy wasn't ready. Fear not, this escapade will influence my next fic for sure. I'm coming back to all of this to escape. 
> 
> Expect updates often. And for those who stuck with me, thank you.

“You’re celebrities now.” Mike slapped the paper down on the table and the rest of the house crowded around it.

“Good lord.”

“Well, we’re up shit creek now.”

“We’re going to die.”

“Oooh. I look sexy.” Steve picked up the paper. Splashed across the front page was a black and white photo of himself and Jonathan in the school carpark. You could see Jonathan’s white eyes and Steve’s cat eyes. They were a blur of claws and fangs.

Steve went over to the couch to show Jonathan, waving it in his face. “Don’t we look gorgeous!”

Jonathan had to agree that Steve looked pretty stunning, covered in blood and fangs bared. “We should frame it, get it up on the wall.”

“This isn’t a joke, you two,” Joyce chided, looking serious. “The whole town is going to be reading that.”

“You mean they _all_ get to see how good I look?” Steve said, voice buttery.

Hopper banged through the front door, letting a flurry of snow come in with him. “The town’s gonna be out to kill the pair of ya.” He brandished his own copy of the paper.

“But why, sure we’re not human, but why would they want to kill us?” Steve shrugged their concerns off.

“Because,” Hopper said, keeping his voice level, “Every time someone shows up missing, or dead, you’re around. Not to mention that fact that you literally have claws in the photo. Why _wouldn’t_ they want to kill you?”

“Fear makes people do strange things.” Joyce tiptoed up and kissed Hopper’s cheek. “If they thought killing you would avenge their children, their sisters, their parents, they’d want you dead.”

Steve had forgotten that there were so many missing or dead people still out there. Having his own family safe had blinded him to the pain other families would be feeling. He simmered down.

“Where’d you get that copy anyway?” Hopper gestured to the one Jonathan was still reading.

“Mike,” Steve said.

Mike Wheeler came around the wall from the kitchen into the lounge and stopped dead. He locked eyes with the chief. It was like a snake targeting its prey. The stare down was painful. Eventually Mike edged away, and out the back door.

“You scare the poor kid,” Joyce said softly.

Hopper’s face was stony. “Good.”

It had been two days since the battle at the cafeteria. Steve’s injuries had healed remarkably fast. Nancy kept tabs on the process, talking about cell regeneration, and tissue replication. Steve smiled and nodded at her, he just thought it was cool to watch his skin sew itself back together.

Jonathan had spent his time deep in thought, mostly he sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, ignorant to the world around him. Steve hadn’t asked what he was doing, he knew Jonatan would come to him in his own time.

The school had closed, no students attended, no teachers walked its halls. It was a yellow-taped ghost town.

Joyce and Hopper were the only ones who left the house, venturing out when they absolutely had to, faces covered in scarves and hats. Their sole source of news had been the kids, Dustin, Mike, occasionally Lucas and Max, brought them snippets from the town. A bunch of new deputies had been hired, and they patrolled the streets constantly. Except at night, when the new recruits all vanished from sight, not daring to be out after dark.

When she wasn’t checking in on Steve, Nancy was busying herself with their newest house-guest. The part-Demogorgon beast was trapped in Castle Byers, surrounded by a magnetic field just like the one protecting the house. She didn’t really have a plan, but she knew that she needed to find out as much as she could from the beast. She’d tried communicating with it with no success. Each time she talked to it, it would get feral and smash itself against the invisible barrier.

Nancy entered the lounge, wet with melted snow. Mike had joined Will and Eleven out at Castle Byers, keeping an eye on the creature. Nancy seized her chance to speak to the adults.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started, stilling down in front of the fire.

“Congratulations,” Steve sniped from the couch where he lay in a vest and shorts, next to Jonathan, who had, predictably, gone into one of his trances.

Nancy ignored the quip. “What if Carol was telling the truth, as much as I hate the smug cow, she was never really smart enough to be a good liar.”

“Telling the truth about what?” Hop asked over the paper.

“About not working for Brenner. She didn’t even seem to recognize his name.”

“If not Brenner, then who?” Joyce asked thoughtfully, looking out the window to watch the snow falling in sheets.

Nancy let out a noise of frustration. “Why is it, we always seem to be missing some crucial piece of information, and the moment we figure it out, there’s another mystery waiting to stop us.”

Steve tried to sooth her anger. “Don’t beat yourself up, Nance. We did a great thing the other day. We cleared out a bunch of hybrids and killed a Demogorgon. Actually killed one.”

Nancy huffed. “I’ve been thinking about that too, I don’t think we killed it at all.”

“But you saw it, it puffed up and disappeared,” Hop assured her.

“That’s just it, I think it disappeared, I don’t think it died.”

“How do you mean?” Hopper lowered the paper now.

“With the hybrids, they’re part human, that keeps them in this dimension, just as much as the serum changed them, they’ve remained human to a degree. Which is why when we used the harpoons, they weakened and died. But the Demogorgon, that thing is one hundred percent from the other dimension, it had no human blood to sustain its life in this dimension. So when the magnetic field charged through it, I think it made the connection to this dimension ripple, and removed it’s link to Earth.”

Steve, Joyce, and Hopper were all staring at her, looking at her as if she’d just spoken perfect Latin.

She rolled her eyes. “The electromagnet on the harpoon sent it back to the Upside Down.”

Comprehension flitted across all their faces. 

“That’s not a bad thing though, is it?” Joyce asked.

“I guess not,” Nancy said slowly. “But if we’re going to end this, then I think we need to know how to really kill one.”

They all nodded and hummed in agreement. Just another thing for Nancy to figure out, another puzzle piece snatched from her hands.

On the middle of the table in the lounge, plugged into an extension cord and then that into the wall, was a box about the size of a VCR machine, it had lights all across the front and half a dozen dials, with a long antenna pointing towards the roof. It was Hopper’s spare police scanner, and the lights were flicking on. The room stilled. Even Jonathan stopped breathing.

They’d listened to every call out since Hopper set it up, they even took shifts through the night to monitor it. So far there had been a few traffic violations, a disturbance at the quarry, nothing out of the ordinary. Each time it went off the entire house stretched to their breaking point.

They’d decided after getting back from the school attack in such a wounded state that they wouldn’t try to trap the monsters again any time soon. They all needed time to recover and prepare. Two days wasn’t nearly enough time to be up and ready for another fight.

Yes, it was true, they wouldn’t seek out another fight, but if they had to go out there and protect the townspeople, they’d do it. Even if the town did want them dead.

Florence’s voice came out of the scanner, sending Nancy back into her memories of being on the run at the police station.

 “Ten-Eighteen, all units, I need someone to check out the theatre. Just had a call that there were screams from the interior.”

“Ten-four Flo, I’ll go check it out now.” The voice that answered her was familiar to Nancy, one of the guys at the station, maybe the one who’d shot her. He sounded like a –

“Rodger. What a dick,” Hopper spat.

They waited, each of them hovering in their seats, waiting for the adrenalin to give them the fuel they needed to fight, waiting for the call that would take them from the safety of their home and into danger once again.

Jonathan opened his eyes, reached over to the coffee table and picked up his three marbles, letting them float through his fingers.

Joyce worried the edge of her book raw.

Nancy tapped her soldering iron against her leg.

Hopper folded and unfolded the paper.

Steve sat still.

The lights came on.

“Ten-twenty-three Flo, on scene, we got a body, but no suspect.”

“Can you ID?” Florence asked.

“Uhh. Standby.”

Steve’s heart sank. It could be Dustin. Or Lucas, or Max. Or maybe even Nancy’s mom. This was the worst bit. The part between knowing someone was dead and finding out who it was. They were all hoping, praying, it wasn’t one of their own. And after, that would lead to guilt. Because someone was still dead, it didn’t make it any better that it wasn’t one of them. But that selfish response, that initial prayer of ‘Anyone but…’ that would keep each of them awake at night.

“Got an ID Flo. Tina Miller. One of the new guys knows her from school.”

“Hah!” Nancy burst. “She’s one of them. One of the girls that took the kids.”

Their elation quickly turned quizzical.

“But…who killed her?” Jonathan asked, spinning his marbles faster, trying to chase his thoughts

“Maybe they’re turning on each other,” Steve suggested. “That many hybrids together, eventually one of them would lose control.”

Florence spoke up again, silencing the room. “Do we have a suspected cause of death?”

Rodger sighed into the receiver. “Uh yeah. Yeah we do.”

“Please confirm,” Florence said, impatient.

“Her head is no longer attached.”

“What do you mean?”

Rodger replied bluntly, “Someone has ripped her head from her body. Her head is in one place. Her body is in another. They are no longer connected. The two are now independent. Just like the top of a Pez dispenser, her head has snapped off.”

“Ten-four Rodger,” Florence said, adding, “No need to be rude.”

After a moments silence, Rodger said, “Sorry Flo. It’s just…a lot. Didn’t mean to snap. Her eyes Flo, they ain’t right.”

“How’d ya mean?” Professionalism was replaced by curiosity in Florence’s voice.

“They’re not…normal. They look like my cat’s. Like that Steve kid, from the papers.”

The room was tense again.

“You think they’re involved?” Florence whispered back, as if she was worried her former boss might appear behind her and attack her. Hopper wasn’t going to appear behind her, but he was listening.

Rodger matched her low tone, “Who knows. Ever since the chief left, and these animals started showing up, I don’t know what to expect.”

“They found some weird stuff at Hopper’s place,” Florence confided. “All the windows at his place were broken and it looked like he’d been living with someone, maybe a prisoner.”

Hopper scoffed. “I couldn’t hold Eleven a prisoner any more than Brenner could.”

“Bag the body and head back to the station, it’s almost dark.” The static on the scanner returned, and the voices went silent.

They had a lot to think over. Tina was dead. Possibly murdered by her own friends. The police were on the scene, but about to leave.

Nancy knew what she had to do. She caught Steve’s eyes, he smirked and nodded.

He’d nodded to visibly, and Hopper looked between the two teenagers. “Absolutely not. No. No way. You’re not going to that theatre. Not a chance.”

***

They were getting ready to go to the theatre. After a short battle, Nancy’s logic had won, and they’d decided to search the theatre for clues to what had killed Tina, because if something could rip the head off a hybrid beast, it was either going to be a great ally, or a terrible enemy.

As they geared up, Hopper slinging a rifle over his shoulder, Nancy filling her pockets with torches, trinkets, shiny tools, and a handgun, Steve checked a shotgun out of what was fast becoming the garage-armory. Even Joyce picked up a gun, a small one, but she looked like she knew what she was doing with it.

“I’m not going,” Jonathan said, watching them all.

Steve tried to pry into his eyes. He’d been acting off since they’d come back from the cafeteria trap, and Steve was ready to call him on it.

“Why?” Nancy asked, waving her gun drastically.

“I-I’m not feeling up to it. The four of you will be fine. I’ll stay here and look after the kids,” he brushed them off.

“The kids don’t need babysitting, Jonathan, they’re smart,” Hopper argued.

“They’ll be fine,” Nancy agreed.

“I’m staying.” Jonathan didn’t mean to make Nancy jump, or to make Hopper’s eyes bulge. He hadn’t shouted. But his voice had taken on the layered quality they’d heard him use on their enemies. Not angry, not mad, but quite possibly the most dangerous voice in the whole world.

Joyce passed him on her way out the door, cupping his face and patting him softly.

Nancy said bye, Hopper dashed past, eyes downward.

Steve squared up to him. “You scared them.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay, Johnny? I’m worried about you.” Steve put his arms around his neck.

Jonathan sighed into the embrace. “I’ll be fine. We’ll talk about it when you get back.”

Steve didn’t want to let him off. He was torn, they needed to get to the theatre as soon as possible, they didn’t have time to hang about, but he desperately wanted to understand what was wrong. He’d drag Jonathan’s confession out if he had to. “Yes,” he said eventually, looking to the open door and out into the truck as the engine started. “We _will_ talk about it Johnny.”

They kissed briefly, and Steve was out into the night, shutting the door after himself.

 _Stay safe._ Jonathan whispered into his mind as the truck pulled out of the drive.

He flicked off the boundary wall. Waiting until the taillights disappeared down the road, and turned it back on with a buzz.

Just like he was back in one of his dreams, Jonathan’s vision unfocused and he found himself walking without direction. Outside. Into the trees. He saw the shapes of the three kids; Will, Eleven, and Mike.

“Go inside. Lock the doors.”

He couldn’t hear their replies. His senses were blanketed in a thick blanket of opacity. He could tell the kids hadn’t moved.

_“Now.”_

Their shapes vanished from view.

His eyes came into focus. He was staring down at the hybrid Demogorgon they’d caught. It writhed in the electromagnetic cage. He followed the wires from the stakes to a car battery they were hooked up to. With one swipe he disconnected the wires, not feeling the electric charge flow through is body.

The beast toed out of the pen cautiously, but when it wasn’t thrown back, it pulled its lips over its massive fangs and lunged for Jonathan.

_Enough._

The best fell short, his jaw retracting and lips sealing over its mouth. It followed Jonathan with those bright green eyes.

Jonathan didn’t know what he was doing here. What he expected. But he couldn’t dwell on his own thoughts, as something puppeteer his body, he reached out one hand and placed it firmly on the side of the beast’s head. It didn’t react, frozen in place.

_Show me._

Jonathan closed his eyes and dropped into the memories of the creature.

***

Joyce and Hopper stayed in the car. They watched Steve and Nancy slip into the back door of the theatre, and Joyce tutted as Steve threw the broken door handle away.

“Seems a tad unnecessary.” Joyce shook her head.

“All of this is unnecessary,” groaned Hopper. “We shouldn’t be here. If the cops come back, we’ll have to fight them, and they have more firepower than we do.”

“Plus, I doubt it would be easy, shooting at your own men.”

“They’re not my men anymore, Joyce.” Hopper leaned his head against his window, fogging the glass with his breath.

“Oh sure they are,” Joyce argued like a mother telling off a toddler. “They’re just as much your men today as they were last week. Nothing’s changed, and after this is over, they’ll welcome you right back.”

“I’m not sure that’s the life for me anymore.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know how much good I was even doing, there’s probably someone out there who could do it a million times better, some FBI hot shot who makes tough calls and isn’t afraid of anything.”

“Hah!” Joyce scoffed. “You think they’d last five minutes in this town? It’s all cats up trees and old ladies getting lost on the bus, until it isn’t. And you have to exorcise demons out of kids, and burn underground tunnels to stop an inter-dimensional invasion. You’re the man for the job Hop.” He stared at her for a long moment, until she snapped, “What?”

“It’s just…you don’t pay me many compliments nowadays,” he rubbed at the steering wheel, avoiding her gaze. He turned back to see her with one eyebrow raised high, the same eyebrow Hopper had seen Jonathan use on Steve many times.

“If you’re looking for someone to fawn over you and worship the ground you walk on,” she clipped, “You’ve come to the wrong girl.”

Hopper smiled at that. “You were always the right girl, Joyce.”

She blushed. “Yeah well, sometimes you gotta take the wrong path to find the right one.”

“Do you ever think about that time, back then?” he asked, the smile dropping from his face.

“No…I try not to at least.” Now it was Joyce’s turn to stare out the window into the poorly lit alley. “We were different people. I was with Lonnie, you were with Diane.”

Hopper’s face lost what little color Joyce could see in it. He struggled with words, his Adam’s apple bulging over and over, until he choked out. “Do you remember that night?”

“Hopper,” Joyce warned in a solid tone.

“I’ve been wondering if it was all connected. The night that we-”

“Stop,” Joyce shouted. “Enough Jim. It was twenty years ago.”

“But what he said, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.”

Joyce’s voice was cold, “Nothing about that night makes sense.”

“Ever since Jonathan came home, since he got different, I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Well try harder, because I’m not reliving that night now, not ever. We promised we’d die before we told anyone. And I intend to keep that promise.” Her voice was final, catching a bit of her mom-ness in it.

They both fumed silently. Joyce because he’d brought it up. Hopper because she hadn’t listened.

But their anger would have to wait, because something blew the back door to the theatre off its hinges.

Hopper startled, Joyce yelped.

It moved too fast, and through the fogged glass neither got a clear look at it. It had been white. Beyond just pale, it was like chalk being scrubbed away from a blackboard. They both got out, guns aimed, but it was gone.

They stepped towards the back entrance, and through the now open doorway, guns held high.

***

Nancy and Steve entered the theatre.

They trod lightly, scanning the area and moving through the back rooms at an agonizing pace, but the meticulousness would be worth it if it meant neither of them got shot. And without Jonathan, they had no idea if they were alone, or if an army awaited them behind the next door.

Steve did his best to use his senses, scanning for signs of heat, signs of life. He couldn’t find any, just a residual glow coming from one of the cinemas.

He sniffed the air deeply, his nostrils filling with the scent of butter. It reminded him of Jonathan. He tried to stay focused, but Jonathan dominated his thoughts. He’d felt Jonathan distancing himself recently, and it hurt like a hot iron to the heart. He wasn’t sure if it was something he’d done, or what had brought this change on, but it had been playing on his mind for a few days now.

Before the trials, hell, even the night they’d gotten back, there was that fire in his eyes, the passion, he’d told Steve he loved him, and he’d believed it. He still believed him, but now Steve was scared, because he’d watched people fall out of love before, and it terrified him that it might be happening to them. His love for Jonathan burned stronger than ever, but this cold Jonathan, quiet, like ice creeping up the window, Steve had to wonder if that was Jonathan’s love for him dying.

“Clear,” Nancy whispered, pulling Steve from his melancholy. They were on a mission. It was time to focus.

Steve pressed his ear against the last door, leading to the entry way and the box office counter. There was a drip of something leaking, the scratch of a mouse or a rat, he couldn’t tell, but no breathing.

“We’re good.” He pushed the door open gently, his senses had been tricked before. Better safe than sorry. The entrance way was clear, the lights flickered, the only constant was the orange glow from the streetlights outside.

Steve’s eyes adjusted and he could see the room as if it were broad daylight outside, but he knew Nancy wasn’t as lucky, so he moved slowly.

Nancy asked, twisting on her small torch. “Where was the body found?”

“This way,” Steve said, leading her to cinema three, following the scent of blood. The door to the cinema slid open with a thick _shhhuck_ sound.

The lights were off in the cinema, and there were no windows to let in even a tiny bit of light. Nancy swept her torch beam across the seats. Steve had hated the theatre when it was empty before he’d become a super-strong beast, nothing had changed. The empty rows of seats still gave him the heebie-jeebies.

The made their way to the floor of the cinema, and the small open space there in front of the screen. Steve stopped and hovered over the patch of wet carpet. It had a yellow tinge. The blood had been cold in Tina’s veins before she’d died. It was a wonder there was any indicator left at all. Steve’s ears picked up on a click, his ears twitched and his eyes snapped to the glass hole the projector usually beamed out of.

It started up with a whir and Nancy pushed her back to the wall, aiming her gun towards the projection box. She fired two shots, not to kill, but to scare. And she was off, bounding up the steep steps and out of the theatre’s side door.

Steve had to drive hard to catch up, skidding to a halt outside the projection room, Nancy at his side. Her fingers closed around the doorknob and it blew open.

A flash of white streaked past them, blowing them over, and it was gone.

Not even Steve had a chance of catching it at that speed. But Nancy wasn’t interested in the thing that had escaped. From her vantage point on the floor she looked through the open door, past the projector, and into the cinema.

She hadn’t had time to read the letters on the wall while she’d been down between the cinema seats, but now she was in the projection room, she could see them clearly, bathed in the blank light of the projector.

They were a dark red color. Almost black. Written in the blood of Tina Miller was a four-letter word that chilled the tips of Nancy’s soul.

_D   R   O   W_

It was just a word. It was a word with no meaning, and yet, as Steve read it, it seemed to enter his mind, wriggling its way into his thoughts, and squeezed any hope from him.

***

Jonathan wasn’t exactly sure what he’d expected when he entered the mind of the weak hybrid, but it certainly hadn’t been an image of his own face.

Not his face as it was now, with frosted eyes, rimmed in shadows, but as it had been before, full of blush and awkward expressions.

It came to him in a rush. He was inside Eric’s mind. That hadn’t just been any experiment in Castle Byers, it was Eric, the failed Demogorgon.

The night Eric had been taken played out in front of Jonathan.

Eric had let Jonathan go home early, he saw the eager look on his own face through Eric’s eyes, he’d been so excited to get back to Steve. Minutes after the door shut behind Jonathan it opened again.

“Sorry, we’re all done for the night. Come back tomorrow, if you’d like.” Eric’s smile faltered as the man approached. He was a middle-aged man, slick silver hair and a fine suit. He didn’t belong in Hawkins, even Eric knew that.

“Hello, Eric isn’t it?”

Eric faltered, wondering how the man knew his name. As if the man were reading his thoughts he pointed at Eric’s chest, where his peeling name badge was pinned to his shirt.

Oh. Of course.

“Anyway,” Eric said, not totally charmed by the man. “Our last film finishes in about ten minutes.”

“I know.” The man’s teeth glinted. “Tell me Eric, do you ever wish you weren’t a theatre boy, have you dreamed of a life full of money and power?”

“N-not really,” Eric stuttered, stepping back. There was something about the man’s smile. Something awful.

“Well, I’m going to give it to you anyway.”

Two men with guns entered through the front doors.

The man kept smiling. “Take him.”

One of the men hit him in the face with the butt of their guns, he fell, dizzy. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was one of the armed men saying, “Let’s hope this one works out, Dr. Brenner.”

As Eric’s vision disappeared, so too did Jonathan’s. The scene reformed. He was in one of the silver gurneys at the science facility. There was no bedside manner here, no sweet talking like Brenner and James had tried to sweet talk him. Someone, not even an important someone, shoved a needle into Eric’s neck and pushed the plunger all the way down.

Jonathan closed his eyes and willed himself forward in Eric’s memories. He’s suffered his own serum, and then he’d suffered Steve’s memory of his, he wouldn’t go through that a third time.

His vison was patchy, some spots were green, other spots saw through the wall and the heat beyond. He could feel the incomplete transformation in every pore of Eric’s body. He was in constant agony, bound to the pain by each nerve in his body.

He was in a cage, a cage barely big enough to stand in. The bars ran with an electric current, sending volts scorching into his skin each time his body touched it, which was often, given the space was so small.

A scientist walked past, dropped a piece of rotting meat into his cage and moved on. The cages on either side of his had beasts inside. He tried to talk, to scream. But his throat was clogged, and something near a bark came out.

He looked to the cage on his left, twisting his head to the left, his nose touched the bars, sizzling against it, but he endured.  A keening sound came from the cage next to his, and he understood it, although it was just a noise.

He read into that sound, that high-pitched sound. The thing was in pain, and it desperately wanted to escape. The wanting for freedom laced each note of the sound, and it struck Eric’s heart deep. He wanted that too, to be free, away from these bars, away from the pain.

He looked down at the meat, and in the corner of his vision he saw two paws.

No.

There were green scales on them, and the nails were long and yellowed. He tried to step away from them, but when he stepped back, the paws moved.

No.

He touched the back of the cage and yelped.

Yelped.

No. No. No.

This wasn’t happening. He was Eric. He had a family. He had a life.

He listened to the keen wail of the beast next to him, and in that howl, he felt the same feeling he was having. Of loss, and disbelief, and an earth-shattering sorrow.

Jonathan couldn’t watch anymore, he pushed forward through the memories until he landed back in the cage.

The lights had gone out. A siren was churning out a repetitive cry. A red light flashed on, and off, and on. Over and over. All the cages in the room clicked as their locks released.

Eric nudged at the gate with his nose, snout. It wasn’t electrified, in fact it squeaked open an inch.

And just like that, they were off. All three of them were free of their cages and running like a hurricane out of the room. There was a flap in the next room, just like the one his cat used at home, and the three of them hurtled through it, escaping into the fresh cold air of a winter’s night.

This was it, they were free, they were safe. But they didn’t stop running, the fear of going back into those cages propelled them like gazelles. They stayed together, they took comfort in each other’s presence. They were a pack now. And like a pack, they would protect each other.

They were flying through the woods when they smelt it. Something dead. Like cigarette ash. Burnt skin.

It dropped from the trees, a white figure wielding hands of granite. It swiped out one of the beasts, gutting it. Eric growled, the other beast circling the figure. But it was too fast. It took the other beast out savagely, ravaging it with hands and teeth.

Eric knew it would kill him next. Instinct told him to stay, to fight. He hadn’t been one to listen to his gut in his human life, he wasn’t going to start now. He scrambled around, sending his paws thrashing as fast as he possibly could. 

He felt it on his heels, getting closer. And it stopped.

Curiosity got the better of Eric and he looked over his shoulder. The figure flew upwards, back into the canopy of branches. Two orange heat blots came out from behind a tree, one running, one stumbling after the first.

He switched vision, and his eyes sharpened. He recognized one of the faces. It was Jonathan Byers, the kid from the theatre.

The figure in the trees shifted and Eric took that as his sign to continue his great escape, vanishing into the night.

The memories flashed past.

Eric’s mind stopped him this time. There was something he wanted Jonathan to see.

After escaping the facility, Eric had laid low at the edge of the woods, ready to run at a moment’s notice, never sleeping, never letting his guard down. It was exhausting. Add to that the constant torture of an incomplete transformation, like his cells were battling each other with poison and fire, Eric was about ready to end it.

 And one night, like a whisper through the air, he felt something pull him.

His paws moved without consent. He skulked his way through the town, wishing more than anything he could stop, could run away. The whisper was pulling him back to the theatre. Through the back door, open wide, across the empty entrance way, and into cinema three. Everything was hauntingly familiar to Eric.

The cinema was alive with life. Creatures, beasts just like him lurked between the seats, purring, growling. There were some real humans in here too, people he recognized from high school. It seemed he was the last to arrive because the doors closed after him.

He heard the tapping of their legs before he saw them. Spiders poured in through the cracks under the doors, thousands of them, all twittering, clacking their legs, some as small as flies, others as big as cats. Too big to be real, too unreal to exist, and yet there they were, slapping the smaller spiders out of their way.

“These are my friends,” a slippery voice said from the shadows. Eric jerked his head, trying to find the source.

“But you,” the voice continued, charming its way into Eric’s mind, “You’re my soldiers.”

Eric felt it like a physical thing, this was the person he had been called by, drawn to.

“And I…” it paused for dramatic effect. “I am the Drow.” Eric saw it, a figure cloaked entirely in writhing shadow. He walked between the seats, touching the heads of the beasts, caressing them.

As he got closer, Eric saw that he wasn’t cloaked in shadow, but instead realized he was covered in hundreds of moving things, it would have churned the human Eric’s stomach, but now it made him feel nothing. The spiders that crawled up the figure’s legs, or the cockroaches that entered its mouth, the woodlice that ran through its fingers. Not even a twitch of disgust.

“You belong to me now,” it said seductively. “And you will do as commanded.” It stopped above Eric, and he struggled against his body as it dropped to the floor, submitting. He couldn’t refute the Drow, couldn’t resist its wishes, couldn’t hate it.

When the Drow had passed and Eric lifted his snout, he watched the Drow’s movements, he made his way to each beast in the room, stopping at the last and letting out a crispy laugh.

The Drow cupped the cheek of a humanoid.

It was none other than high-school socialite, bully extraordinaire, general piece of shit, Tommy.

***

“Tommy!” Jonathan yelled, coming back into himself.

The hybrid- Eric, was sat just like a dog would, waiting patiently in front of him.

“Tommy is one of them?” he asked, desperately hoping he was wrong.

In one slow, sure movement, the hound nodded its snout. Jonathan reached out, laying a hand on the top of Eric’s head, and the pain rushed through the connection, the pain of Eric’s cells ripping themselves apart, and regenerating, hundreds of times a second.

He wanted to release Eric, put him out of his misery, but as he reached for his gun, he felt sheer fear coming off Eric in waves.

He didn’t want to die. Well, Jonathan thought, nobody did really. But Eric couldn’t want to live the rest of his life out in anguish. That was a fate far worse than death. And what of the rest of the players in this game? The Dungeon Party would surely want it killed, whatever had killed its fellow escapees wouldn’t think twice, hell even this Drow person would want Eric dead now that he’d been around Jonathan.

Jonathan was lost. As lost as he’d been in his own serum fueled delirium.

Lost.

An idea so stupid sprung into Jonathan’s head that he already heard Nancy’s shouts.

“As dumb as a bag of bricks, Jonathan Byers, you should know better, really, what sort of person…”

Jonathan drowned the imaginary voice out, steeling himself.

He closed his eyes, leaving him at the full mercy of Eric. He hadn’t commanded the hybrid pup to stay, or not to move, he could easily leap on Jonathan’s immobile form and tear out his throat.

But Jonathan was almost sure he wouldn’t. Almost.

With his mind’s eye he scoped up, seeing the world from above, and pulled back further into the abyss, until he could see nothing of the Earth around him.

A landscape came to life around him like brushstrokes of a painting.

The last time he’d done this he’d felt like he was on the verge of a canyon, rocking on his heels, anxious and excited.

This time he really was on the edge of a canyon. The Grand Canyon, in fact. The sun rose like a hazy peach in the distance. The canyon might have been a metaphor, he didn’t know, couldn’t tell for sure.

 _Rude of you to drop in like this,_ a voice said from his side.

Jonathan looked, saw himself, and exhaled. He’d managed it. The other Jonathan looked similar to himself, older, but not by much, it was hard to tell, his eyes were frosty white, matching his.

 _We’re always rude,_ Jonathan said.

 _What is it?_ the other Jonathan asked.

 _Shouldn’t you already know? Surely you remember doing just this?_ he asked.

 _Just make it quick,_ the other Jonathan snapped. I’m busy.

Both Jonathan’s rolled their eyes.

_It’s about Eric. I don’t know what to do._

_What do you think you should do?_

_Kill him, it would be the kindest thing to do._

_And yet, you’re here, unsure._

_Well I needed to know if I was capable of the other option._

_Do you think you’re capable?_

Jonathan yelled, fury filling his bones, _Are you just going to ask rhetorical questions?_

_Petulant child._

_Dickhead._

_Yes. You’re capable. But the choice is up to you,_ the other Jonathan relented.

 _Don’t you know what I do?_ Jonathan asked _._

_It’s not as simple as that. You act like this this is a straight line._

_Time is linear_ , Jonathan thought, confident.

The other Jonathan scoffed. _Time is as mutable as playdoh. But our mind is not._

Jonathan felt the wind whip up around him, their time was almost done.

The other Jonathan’s face took on an urgent look, _One last thing. The Beholder, you CANNOT-_

Jonathan was ripped from his mind by Steve.  “Jonathan get down!” he snarled.

Jonathan didn’t have enough time to review the situation. He needed a moment. _Stop._ He commanded the world around him.

He got up slowly, taking in the scene. Hopper was pointing a gun at Eric, Eric had eyes full of fear. His mom had her arms thrown wide to cover Will and Eleven at the back door, Nancy was priming a Radiator Bomb, and Steve’s claws were an inch from ripping out Eric’s innards.

He pulled a frozen Eric out the way, nodded, and released the people around him.

“Johnny, that thing, don’t let it hurt you!” Steve was desperate.

“It won’t hurt me.”

“Jonathan,” Hopper tried to coax, “take one step to your left, and I’ll get it.”

“No you won’t,” Jonathan was firm. “This isn’t just some mindless beast. It’s Eric, and he needs my help.”

“You’ve lost it, kid.” Hopper didn’t lower his gun.

Jonathan shook his head. “I’ll prove it.” He turned to the pup. “Eric is that you?”

The beast nodded.

“Do you wish to hurt me?”

The beast shook its snout from side to side.

“And do you think the chief should have more trust in me?”

The beast nodded.

“There, cleared up.”

“Not cleared up, not even close.” Hopper said, but lowered the gun. “Are you controlling his mind?”

“No.”

“Then why isn’t he drinking your blood right now?”

“I told you Hop, because he’s Eric. He’s just a regular kid, who was at the wrong place and the wrong time.”

Steve had retracted his claws, but his eyes were still glowing, bearing down into Eric’s.

Nancy unprimed the electromagnetic bomb.

“We’ve always know what they were, half Demogorgon, half human,” Jonathan could see he was getting through to them.

“Yes, but their monster side has won out,” Nancy said.

“Some of them have, but why couldn’t the human side dominate their mind?”

“Is it possible, Nancy?” Steve asked her, not taking his eyes off Eric.

“Jesus Steve, stop asking that, of course it’s possible, you have night vision built into your monster eyes, what the fuck _isn’t_ possible is an easier question to answer.”

“What do we do with it?” Hopper asked uncomfortably.

“Him. It’s a him,” Steve corrected him. Jonathan met his eyes, grateful for the defense.

“I’m going to help him, and then he can decide what he wants to do.” Jonathan dropped to his knees, eye level with Eric.

Nancy shrugged. This was hardly the craziest thing they’d ever had happen. “What do you need?”

“Quiet,” Jonathan answered, he closed his eyes, but didn’t go into Eric’s mind this time, instead he hovered outside of it, ready to manipulate it.

He pictured the cells, dying, reviving, there was nothing he could do to stop that, no science to fix it, but he could fix around the science. He severed the paths from nerve to mind.

_You’re free from the pain._

A surge of euphoric relief flooded Eric, and filtered through to Jonathan’s mind. He hadn’t changed Eric’s body, hadn’t healed him, he’d just made his pain receptors ignorant.

The next one was harder. He pulled the Drow from Eric’s memory, saw him in his mind’s eye. Eric would obey the Drow no matter what his command, no matter how much he resisted, and that wasn’t right.

_You’re free from the Drow._

The ghost shackles fell away from Eric’s paws. He wasn’t under anyone’s control now.

There was a moment, a moment in which Jonathan felt his own weakness rise. It would be handy to have a Demogorgon hybrid on their side, a loyal beast to command and fight with. It could save their lives.

But that wasn’t Jonathan.

That was what a monster would do. And that’s not how Jonathan planned on winning this fight against the other dimension.

“You can do what you like now.” Jonathan scratched the top of Eric’s head.

The hybrid Demogorgon Eric nuzzled his snout into Jonathan and took off into the woods.

Jonathan turned to Steve and Nancy. “Tommy, he’s one of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope it wasn't too confusing. Ask me questions if you have them. 
> 
> Next Chapter: Absent Minded.


End file.
